In the midst of winter
by Storygirl1985
Summary: My take on Season 8. It's a Jonerys centric fic but other characters will get their spotlight as well. The great war is coming. But it's not so easy to focus on it when you're overwhelmed by revelations and love ...
1. Realization

**Hey guys, I'm overwhelmed by the response my Jonerys oneshots got. Thank you all for the likes and nice words! :-) Therefore I've decided to write a multichapter-fic to soothe the loooooong wait for the next season. It will be a Jonerys centric fic but other characters will get their spotlight as well. The first chapter starts with Jon and Dany's famous boatscene afterwards it will be basically my idea of what could happen in Season 8. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think :-)**

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 _How do you tell someone that you're in love with them?_ The thought lingered in Jon's mind. He had tried to push it away, to not even think about telling her. But in the evenings, when he had spent another day in her presence and he was alone in his chambers, it returned with full force. Today was no exception. Especially because she had agreed to travel with him by ship. There were no spots to escape to. No long halls separating him from her. Nothing that made it easier for him to keep his distance from her.

So he didn't. He was tired of fighting his own feelings, tired of convincing himself that she didn't feel the same way. Because most days now he caught her looking at him with an expression in her eyes that matched his exactly.

He came to a halt at her cabin door. Now that he stood in front of it, nervousness swept over him like a wave. How would she react upon seeing him at night in front of her chambers? Would he damage their alliance beyond control with his actions? There were a handful of possibilities how this could turn out and he felt slightly stupid just coming here but there was no turning back now. All of him longed for all of her.

His knocking was loud and firm. He needed to do this. He simply couldn't not do this. With a rapidly beating heart in his chest he waited for her to open. And it jumped slightly when she finally did. The emotions that crossed Daenerys face, a combination of surprise, fear, fondness and above all a knowing look, revealed to Jon that he had been right. She felt the same. The truth of that crept through his whole body and soul, it dried his mouth of all words and filled his heart with longing. He would never be the same again. His life would be separated in before her and after.

Daenerys opened the door even further, only a small gesture but a clear invitation for him to enter her cabin. He didn't need any more validation, her gaze and her actions made him bold. With a few firm steps he walked inside and closed the door. Never taking his eyes of hers. They didn't need any words to fortify what was happening between them. They had known this was coming, had known it for some time now, they had simply feared the truth.

But in the end it was inevitable.

The door closed with a dull thud and left the room silent, the only sound lingering in the air was their heavy breathing full of nervousness and anticipation.

 _How do you tell someone that you're in love with them?_ The question surged through the surface of Jon's mind again. But every sentence he could think of didn't feel right. Maybe there were no words that could fully fathom what someone was feeling. Maybe everything they needed to know was written across their faces. No words, no explanations, just eyes filled with storms of emotions.

One last look at each other and they no longer tamed the storm, they let it free and clashed their lips together in one unbridled uproar of affection. Her lips were soft and warm and tasted of sweet wine. The feel of them against his own awakened his whole body with sensations he had thought died with him in that fateful night at the wall. But here he was somehow alive, a Bastard named King, and hopelessly in love with his queen. It was hard for him to comprehend how all of this came to be.

They broke the kiss only to get some air. Gently he laid his forehead against hers and breathed in deeply.

"Dany." he called her by the nickname he had given her in his head weeks ago. He still couldn't form a whole sentence, but he put all his affection into this single word.

#

She held on to him, one hand buried in his locks, the other rested firmly at his waist and looked up to him. The way he said her name made her whole body shiver. His voice felt like a caress, like a blanket keeping her warm in the midst of winter.

She couldn't point out the exact moment she had fallen in love with him. Maybe a part of her already fell when he had entered Dragonstone for the first time and watched her with this big brown eyes of him. But in whole it had been a process. Slow in the beginning, but faster when she got to know him better and after some time she had fallen so deep, that there was no getting out of it. Not that she wanted to. The way he made her feel … God she didn't know she could feel like this and it scared her.

She had wanted to be his queen, to appear strong, wise and graceful and be respected by the King in the North. But instead he had cut her open and she had shown him her vulnerability, her pain, her fears. All things she covered neatly in front of everyone else. But with him she hadn't really had a choice. It felt natural to share these things with him. To let him see her this way, to finally be Dany again for someone.

Jon wasn't like any man she'd ever met. He was honest, loyal and stupidly brave and deep down she knew that he would never hurt her intentionally. He was a good man with a soft heart in a world that constantly tried to change him into something harsh and cold.

She brought her lips to his again. Dany wanted him to know, how much he meant to her. How desperately she wanted this too. How much she longed for him and his touches. So she kissed him slow and tender and he responded in the same unhurried pace. Together they got lost in this emotional kiss, still no need for words, solely each other.

#

They both wanted to take things slow, to fully admire and worship the other but they couldn't. For weeks they had denied themselves what they wanted and now that they were done pretending and had fully acknowledged what they felt it was impossible to stop. They undressed each other quickly with shaking hands until they finally dropped naked onto the bed. An entangled mess of two bodies.

Jon laid on his back, his left leg bend, his hands cradling her head, pulling her closer. Her slender body fitted so perfectly in his hands, as if it belonged there. As if his hands weren't only build to wield swords and fight enemies but also to hold her. To touch her gently and make her feel special, desired, loved.

Her hands roamed his body, touching the scars that had brought him so much pain and made him feel something else entirely. He still hadn't told her the truth about those. That he had died and that, almost, they would have never crossed paths. It was a part of his past he wasn't fond of explaining but somehow Jon knew that she already sensed the truth and someday he would tell her the whole story. But not tonight. Tonight wouldn't be about tales of death and treason, on the contrary it would be about being alive and really connecting with somebody.

Their kisses grew even hungrier. When she withdrew her lips to catch a breath, he chased them, not able to lose touch for too long. But he needed more. They both needed more, their bodies throbbing with need, their hearts ready to take this even further. In one swift motion Jon turned Dany on her back and thrust into her. All doubts he had ever had about this extinguished and replaced with lust that rolled over his whole body. Both of them moaning in pleasure before they kissed anew. He was united with her in the most intimate way but still he couldn't get enough of the taste of her lips on his. And she reciprocated the feeling, chasing his mouth and touching him gently. And the sounds that escaped her lips… God, to think about that he was the one that evoked this reactions, put his soul on fire.

Jon couldn't help himself but to look at her and she welcomed him with her soft eyes. For a few seconds they forgot to move, lost in each others gazes. In their love. Because that's what this was. There was no denying it. Not anymore. They were in love. Earthshakingly, beautifully in love.

In this moment time did not stand still but for the first time Jon and Dany understood what people meant when they said, one single moment changed their lives forever.

He slammed his lips down on hers again, kissing her almost desperately and she responded eagerly. Pulling him to her, claiming his mouth as hers. Both absolutely overwhelmed by their emotions.

With every thrust of him, with every brush of his lips against her own Jon carved himself deeper into Daenerys soul. She had not known sex could be like this. She had had good sex before, that made her enjoy herself and left her satisfied but sleeping with Jon awakened all her senses. Everything was so much more intense. It was as if the world shrank to this small cabin and left only room for them. All she could think about was Jon, all she could feel were Jon's touches, all she wanted to do was making love to him.

After a while he put his hands under her back and sat up, taking her with him. When they both settled she sank down on him again. Dany could see the sweat on his forehead, noticed it on her own skin melding with his. They were pressed together wherever they could, both thoroughly committed to this, trembling with need. Slowly she began to ride him, holding on to him, burying her head in his neck. But it wouldn't stay there for long, since their lips couldn't stay away from one another tonight. He met her halfway, kissing her fondly even though their other movements became more and more fierce. Heat had always been something, that wouldn't bother her. But in his arms she felt so hot she thought she could burst any given moment.

And right before she did, before they both fell, her eyes found his again. Unable to stop staring they guided each other to their highs and came undone together.

#

Tyrion pulled himself a drink and sank down on his chair at the great table in the common room in the middle of the ship. Forcefully he brought the glass to his lips and swallowed it's content whole within seconds. Feeling the liquid burn in his throat and warm up his chest made him already feel better. It wasn't that he resented what was going on down the hall. He genuinely liked the two young people and he would have wished them to find love if there hadn't been a great war heading straight for them.

 _In times like these emotions were dangerous_. They could cloud your judgment and let you forget your duty. And he needed his queen and the King in the North to focus on the task ahead not on each other. They hadn't even told him that Jon bent the knee and it almost cost them Cersei's support in the great war. Information like this was essential to him if he was to advise them properly. He would've to make sure that they'll seek his advice next time and not just each others. As clever as both of them were, they were no strategists. But he was and they needed him whether they wanted to or not.

Abstractedly he topped of his glass and took another sip of the strong and soothing alcohol. He was scared, a fact even the drink couldn't change. Daenerys dream of the future, of the broken wheel, was his dream too. But with every passing day his confidence in their ability to fulfill it wavered. And not only due to the danger lurking beyond the wall also because his queen slipped out of his reach. She had accused him of ill planning and defied his counsel several times. With that he could live but on top of that she had started to change, to grow harder, to burn unarmed men.

 _And with that he couldn't live._

Their dream was to break the wheel not to merely turn it into a different variation of it. Of course she was far from Cersei's cruelty but nevertheless she grew more ferocious. He just hoped that if he didn't get through to her in the future Jon would. Tyrion knew, that he was a good man who didn't use brutality where it wasn't necessary. Maybe this was a good thing that could come out of their liaison, perhaps Jon could tame her Targaryen fire a little bit. He kept on like that for an hour. Pouring himself drink after drink his thoughts wandering in circles.

"She's with him." a voice came from the other end of the hall. In the shadows of the dimly lit room Tyrion could make out the silhouette of Jorah Mormont.

"She is.", he confirmed and pointed to the empty glasses on the side table.

Jorah didn't need to be asked twice, within seconds he poured himself a drink and sat down across from the queen's hand.

"Jon's a good man.", Jorah said, gulping his drink and trying not to sound sad.

But Tyrion knew better. He had seen the way the man looked at Daenerys and he must have finally accepted that she would never reciprocate his feelings.

"That he is." Tyrion agreed again. It didn't happen often that he found himself in a situation in which he didn't know what to say, but this was one of those rare occasions. Where there any words that could console a broken heart? Would it do any good to share his mixed feelings with the loyal knight of the queen? So he kept his mouth shut and refilled their glasses. Alcohol couldn't solve any problems but it sure as hell made you forget about them for a while.

#

In her arms it was easy to forget about the winter and it's dangers that were starting to engulf them. It was dawn, the boat and most of its passengers sound asleep but Jon had woken an hour ago and after a dreamlike night the reality was crashing back in with the harsh light of the winter morning. They couldn't stay here forever, wrapped in each other, her soft skin on his callous one, and forget about their duties. As enticing as it was. He felt her steady breath grazing his chest, her firm heartbeat pressing at his side. She was a glorious reminder of life and what they did last night made it clearer than ever to him what they were fighting for.

 _Nevertheless they needed to fight first._

She stirred in his arms, slowly awakening from her deep slumber, her eyes searching for his. When they finally locked, she looked at him with a soft expression on her face. He had been aware that last night had changed things for good, but he hadn't been sure if a part of her might regret giving into her feelings, in the morning. But to be looked at like that by her dispelled all concerns. Instead a pleasant warmth filled his body, starting in his chest, spreading from there into every corner of his being.

"What now?" Jon asked her, voice hoarse.

He wasn't asking for the big answers, like how to kill the Night King or how to take the Iron Throne. He was asking the small question. Should he stay or should he go before the whole ship awakened? Her eyes lingered on him, watching him closely. His gaze fell to her lips, even though they had spent the whole night together, he was yearning to touch them again.

"We will win the war." she finally answered and a low chuckle escaped him.

"That's not what I meant."

For a moment Jon thought she hadn't understood his question but then her hand took his and entangled them, one finger with the other. Although it was a simple gesture, it send a shiver through his whole body and he breathed in deeply. She stared at him with a determination and fire in her eyes, he had seen before but never directed at him. It was one of the many things that made him fall in love with her. She was strong-willed and passionate. And to be the one to cause it made him kind of proud.

"We will do it together."

The last word danced like a promise over her lips. A promise of love and a shared future.

"Together." he squeezed her hand lightly. And then he couldn't stop himself anymore. He needed to kiss her again. So he did.

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 **Note: Not much plot in this one, but there will be in future chapters. I promise! Next stop: Winterfell.**


	2. Winterfell

**Thank you all so much for the follows and comments on the first chapter! I'm sorry it took me a while to get the second chapter out. But I hope the length will make up for it. I hope you'll like this one too :-)**

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The snowflakes drifted to the ground in a wild dance, sticking almost invisible to Dany's white winter coat and her silver hair. They've been on the road for days now, riding through the landscape which was mostly hidden beneath a white blanket of snow.

Winter was here. No doubt about that.

With it came the cold and soon the undead, but still it looked marvelous. But the most marvelous sight was the man beside her. Covered in his thick fur coat, snow shining like bits of bright ash in his dark hair and an upright position on his horse's back he looked all like the Northern King he was. Since they've been on the mainland she yearned for him and his touches. They'd slept several times together on the ship but since they traveled by horse it was difficult to steal some private moments. Someone was always watching, especially Jorah, Davos and Tyrion who eyed them with interest. They had probably already discovered what was going on between their King and their Queen. But nevertheless Jon and Dany decided to keep a low profile. They didn't exactly want to keep it a secret but they didn't intend it to be the center of attention either. With that would came questions they didn't know the answers to. Not yet or at least they weren't ready to speak them out loud. The only thing regarding Jon that she was absolutely sure of was, that she was madly in love with him. Some days this feeling still took her by surprise. For example when they hid in a corner to steal a kiss. Wasn't that the behavior of lovesick children? Was that how rulers should act in a time of war?

But it just didn't feel wrong. Quite the opposite, being with him felt good. Like she was finally at a place where she belonged.

All her life she had longed to return to Westeros thinking that it would mean to return home and when she set foot on Dragonstone's shore a voice in her mind whispered the liberating word to her. _Home_.

But now, when she was with Jon, not just in a physical way but also when they talked, laughed, even argued, the whispers started again. _Home_.

She had never been to Winterfell, never traveled these roads before, but due to Jon nothing of it seemed foreign.

"We're nearly there." Davos voice broke her out of her thoughts. He appeared beside her on his own horse a small fatherly smile on his lips.

"At last. Another day on this horse and my balls would be squashed for good." Tyrion joked from behind her, eliciting a bemused smile from Jon. He shot it only to her and she couldn't help it and retorted with her own.

"Aye. Nearly there." Jon reassured him.

Not long after, the group gathered on a hill looking down on a snow-capped castle with eased expression on their faces.

They'd made it at last.

Winterfell.

#

Jon's heart warmed at the well-known sight. He had spent many years away but no matter how far he would go Winterfell would always be dear to him. Particularly the people who lived there. His siblings. His family. Just the thought that they were waiting down there for him filled him with joy.

Firmly he grabbed the reins and led his horse down to the gate. The two guards positioned directly in it let him pass without hesitation but he noticed the big eyes with which they regarded the army of Dothraki and Unsullied behind him. Not to mention the two Dragons circling about the soldiers heads in the distance. He envisioned himself through their eyes. Their King, a northern man throughout, who set off south against the advice of his people and returned with foreign allies and deadly creatures at his back. It would be hard work to convince them that this was actually a good thing.

"Welcome home your grace", they welcomed him nevertheless respectfully and Jon thanked them politely before riding into the courtyard.

It didn't take long and the whole place was crowded with people greeting their King who at long last returned home. So many faces, so many smiles directed at him. But he only looked for one. That of his young sister Arya. Of course he loved all of his siblings but Arya had always been the one closest to him. For such a long time he had thought he would never see her again, that their paths had irreversible been severed but today they would proof fate wrong.

More and more people gathered in the court, some of his lords among them. And it didn't escape Jon that they observed the silver-haired queen beside him with suspicion. They couldn't see the armed armies positioned outside the gate or the huge Dragons resting beside them. But the presence of the southern queen alone awakened their disapproval. He wished there would be an easy way to make them realize what a good ruler Daenerys was. How brave and strong and righteous she acted. But in the end they would need to see it with their own eyes to fully understand it.

He lost the thought, when a head of ginger hair attracted his attention. It was Sansa who slipped ladylike through the crowd, all men making way for her. She must have represented him well in his absence. At her side he spotted someone else and even though she was already moving fast at him and therefore he couldn't make out all of her features he knew instantly who it was. His heart leaped. Arya. Involuntarily he took a step forward whilst she pushed herself deftly through the masses until she was finally free. He opened his arms like old times and she didn't stop for one second. With the biggest smile plastered on her face she leaped straight into them.

 _Arya_. Her name echoed through his mind. Arya. It actually was his little Arya. He sighed in relief and held her even closer. God, she had gotten so big! She was still small compared to other women but the last time he had hold her she had been a little girl. A tough and fierce one but nevertheless a little girl. Now she was all grown up.

"I've missed you", she said into his ear.

And her voice reminded him of the past, of the family they used to be and the people they had lost. His heart ached in nostalgia. It had never been easy being the Bastard of Winterfell but nevertheless it had been simpler times without the fate of a whole nation in his hands.

"I've missed you too."

Jon hugged her tightly, inhaling her familiar scent and for a single moment he was just happy that life had finally brought them back together again.

They needed a moment but eventually they let go of each other and Jon welcomed Bran and Sansa instead. The people around them observed the family reunion patiently but Jon knew that they waited for him to explain certain things. He turned around and his eyes locked with Dany's who gave him a subtle but encouraging nod. With three measured steps he was back at her side and addressed the crowd.

"This is queen Daenerys of house Targaryen. I know the relationship between house Stark and House Targaryen hasn't always been easy. But we've decided to not let the sins of our ancestors dictate our future." Jon's gaze scanned the numerous faces around them. They listened to him curiously.

"She is here to help us fight the war against the White Walkers and the Undead. With her armies and her Dragons we finally stand a chance against them."

That was the easy part, telling his people that they'd get help. But now came the hard part, admitting that he had bend the knee. That he made this queen his queen and therefore their queen. A southern woman they didn't know. His heart was beating fast out of nervousness but after everything he had been through he had learned to overcome it. So he swallowed all his shakiness and continued to speak.

"You have named me your King and put your trust in me to lead you. And I intend to do that as best as I can. So please trust me when I say that Daenerys Targaryen is our best chance not only to win this war but at a peaceful future afterwards."

He paused and looked directly at her. And it somehow calmed him even further. She was their best option at a good future, at a future at all, he firmly believed in that.

"She's my queen", he concluded firm but soft. They were surrounded by hundreds of people and yet in this second they exchanged a look that was entirely their own. He had already pledged himself to her. First on the boat after they had captured the wight and then in the Dragonpit when they tried to convince Cersei to help them. But to do it a third time in front of his people added a whole other weight to it. He chose her. Proudly and for everyone to see.

And deep down in the corners of his heart that belonged entirely to him, not to his nation or his sense of responsibility, he wanted to give her an altogether different vow too.

But then the moment stopped and all hell broke loose.

#

Arya observed the Great Hall closely. It was stuffed with the Northern lords and their followers on one side, Sansa and Bran on the other at a table and Jon and his adviser right in the middle. The atmosphere was heated and the visual separation of the groups reflected their detachment on the matter of the Dragon Queen.

Daenerys herself had held a speech in the courtyard, telling them that she didn't want to conquer the north, that she wanted to save it. Arya found that she hadn't appeared mad at all, like so many people whispered in the villages since rumor spread that the Daughter of the mad King had landed in Dragonstone. On the contrary her speech had sounded wise and calm. Passionate yes, but the passion seemed to come from the heart not from a broken brain.

The people however hardly listened to what she had to say. The moment they had realized Jon accepted her as the rightful queen they demanded a private meeting with their King.

They had gathered in the hall and Jon had told them about Daenery's achievements. He had tried to make them see why he had bent the knee, but the lords already had their opinion and it was unlikely that it would be changed solely on words.

Arya's eyes wandered over to Jon. He had changed immensely since she had to bid him farewell all those years ago. The shy boy she had known was gone and in his place stood a confident man. She'd always thought that people underestimated him, that they quickly disposed him as a Bastard and didn't give him a second glance. And to see that he proved them all wrong filled her with pride. And unlike his lords she trusted his decision-making. He would never follow a queen who didn't have the North's best interest at heart. Additionally there was another reason she was willing to like the queen. Someone else might not have noticed it but Jon regarded her with soft eyes. And his soft eyes were reserved solely for the people close to his heart. What let her to believe that Daenerys Targaryen was special to him.

"She's the daughter of the mad king! She can't be trusted!"

It was the same argument over and over again and Jon sighed in resignation. Arya could imagine how he felt, to have traveled for weeks, to arrive home hungry and exhausted only to have to deal with stubborn subjects.

"He would be dead if it weren't for her!" Sir Davos voice cut through the noise. It was the first time he spoke since they'd gathered here and suddenly all ears were on him. "Cersei would've never agreed to send troops to help us. The wight they captured to convince Cersei Lannister, they captured it _together_. He and his men were trapped beyond the wall. Surrounded by thousands of undead and she sacrificed one of her dragons to save them."

Jon looked at him in surprise. It was clear to Arya that the two shared a deep bond. They could almost pass of as father and son.

"She's not mad." Jon added calmly but pleading, now that his people listened. "She has a good heart. She's no queen who sits on her throne and judges her people. She's right amongst them. Fighting alongside them. For them. She commands thousands of deadly soldiers and two fire-breathing dragons. And she's willing to fight for us."

It was apparent that his lords still weren't convinced but at least they they weren't shouting anymore.

"I understand that it is something you are worried about because you don't know her. I was too. But then I saw with my own eyes who she is. What kind of a ruler she is. So I'm just asking you for a chance. Let her prove herself to you."

It was quite a speech. Likewise passionate as Daenerys' but the difference was that this one came from their King who led them so far competent and Arya recognized that the furiousness of some lords started to fade.

"She's not our enemy. Our enemies are the undead and they're heading straight for us. Right now we shouldn't worry about who's our King or who's our Queen. We should be worried about our survival. So the next time, let us gather to prepare for the war and not fuss about who rules a land that might be destroyed if we don't defend it."

He finished his plea, his eyes burning with determination. Since Arya had arrived at Winterfell she had heard many tales about the man Jon became. The titles he held, the battles he had fought, the different races he had united. But nothing illustrated it so well for her like his demeanor in this meeting. He was born to be King whether he himself believed it or not.

"You are the King I chose", an altogether different voice echoed through the hall. "Daenerys Targaryen won't change that." It was Lyanna Mormont. A young girl between all these grown up men and yet she was the only one bold enough to speak. "But you're right, your grace, we need to concentrate on the war ahead."

Arya couldn't contain the big grin appearing on her face. She liked this girl. And the other lords seemed to hold her in high regards as well since one after another nodded in approval. She didn't need to see more, she could imagine how the rest of this discussion would enfold. Besides the warrior in her demanded to be absolutely sure, that her feeling towards Daenerys didn't betray her. That's why she sneaked out of the hall and went to appease her curiosity about this woman her brother thought so highly of.

"Well, it was expected that they would be reluctant to accept you." Arya deciphered Tyrion's voice, when she leaned against the door to the chambers that were given earlier to the Queen.

"It is a major change imposed on them. They'll need time to get to know you."

That was Varys. She remained where she was, listening closely. In all her years she had found out that she could get a lot of information out of people if she just kept an open eye and ear.

"We need to make sure you are safe here, your grace."

This voice she didn't knew so she expected it to belong to the only other man inside Daenerys circle. Jorah if she recalled correctly. There was an edge in his words as if it wasn't just about the Queens safety. It sounded like there was something else bothering him.

"Jon wouldn't let me stay here if I were in danger."

That was clearly Daenerys. So he was Jon to her. Not the King or Lord Snow. And she wasn't doubting him for a second, saying the words in a calm but insistent manner. In the short time they had spent together they obviously must've grown close, reasoned Arya.

"He seemed a little bit preoccupied nowadays." Jorah again. And like before his tone adhered a moroseness.

"Is there something you want to tell me to my face, Sir Jorah?", Daenerys asked him coldly. She obviously recognized the undertone as well and disliked it. Arya could only guess what was really the topic of the conversation. But to her Jorah acted a lot like he was jealous.

"No your grace. Forgive me", he backed down, as if he only now recognized his behavior.

A few seconds passed but eventually they got on with a different topic.

"So what are we going to do about the rejection of the Northern lords?", asked Varys. And without hesitation and a confidence that could only be called brave in this situation Daenerys responded.

"I'll show them who I am."

They were talking some more after this. Wondering about the North and the coming war. Nothing in peculiar but afterwards Arya was sure of two things. The first was that Daenerys Targaryen indeed came to rescue the North and the second was that she most definitely wasn't an ordinary queen.

#

Dany stood in the doorstep to Jon's chambers and watched him affectionately. He leaned against a chair, sighing deeply and she cogitated how he must be feeling. Defeated probably, exhausted definitely.

After the meeting with his lords he had come to her, telling her and the others that the Northerners were willing to postpone any further discussion about their leadership until the end of the war. They all knew that it was a fragile agreement that could diverge any given moment but it was better than nothing. They simply didn't have time to concentrate on a greater extent on it.

Dany knocked lightly at the wooden door, making herself known. They probably should get some rest after their long journey. All of her advisers had already retired for the night. But she just couldn't stay away from Jon, now that there was a chance to catch him alone. To talk to him in private, not just exchange intimate glances through a group conversation. To look at him and not conceal her emotions due to other people watchful eyes. To touch him again, not just a brush of fingertips but genuinely touch him, where her fingers, her lips and her skin longed to.

He lifted his head in irritation at the disturbance but the emotion quickly changed into something softer. After days of stolen glances it was liberating to be regarded with this special gaze of his again.

"I'm sorry that you're in a dispute with your men because of me", she said, entering the room. Like Tyrion had said, she had expected, that they would be furious and although she was proud that Jon stood so unyielding behind his decision to bend the knee, she wished he wasn't the one right in the middle of this quarrel.

"Don't be. They just need time, that's all." It put a slight smile on her face that he still got consoling words for her even though it had been her intention to comfort him. Without asking she closed the door and he responded like a moth attracted to the light and let go of the chair to draw nearer.

"I can understand them. They don't know me", she admitted, when he stood directly before her. Carefully he interwined his fingers with hers and her heart skipped a beat, pleased that she was finally able to feel him again.

"But they will", he reassured her. "Just like I did."

"I hope not as good as you," she mocked and he smiled at her. It was jaded and just grazed his eyes. Much like hers. It was all they could conjure after a day like this. Gently he placed his hands on her waist and pulled her even closer to him.

"Not as good as me," his voice was close to a whisper and he leaned his forehead against hers. Their warm breaths mingled in the small space between them. However it wasn't enough to still her need for him. So she put her hands on his chest, knowing about the once fatal wounds concealed below his clothes. They were a stark reminder of how fragile life was and of how death had nearly claimed him long before she even knew his name. Some days, when they were lying in bed in the middle of the night, nestled up into another and told each other what they'd been through she almost felt that it was destiny that had brought them together. And that it had a plan for them. But she always reminded herself that this idea was foolish. This world held no room for fortune and all their plans could crumble with one unerring blow of the undead.

Her hand lingered over the place where his heart was located and she noticed his firm heartbeat underneath her palms. All they had with certainty were moments like these and she cherished them, absorbed every detail and tried to lock them away in the deep corners of her mind for when she would need them. When he would be out there on the battlefield and she high in the sky above him.

He let out a shaky breath at her touch and pulled her even more closer and she permitted it without any hesitation. Their lips were already drawing nearer and he sighed despairingly when they finally touched. The sound made her heart ache and her body warm up.

As a northern man he sometimes radiated a roughness but never when he was with her. He was always tender, even when he was assertive. Through all his kisses and touches she could always feel how much he loved her. Even though he had never said it out loud. He said it with his lips when they brushed feather light over her body, with his fingertips when they traced her curves, with his breath hot against her skin, with his whole body worshiping hers. That was exactly what she yearned for, for days now.

It was a long time ago that she had last felt the pang of loneliness. After the heartache she'd had to suffer to have lost her child and her husband, she'd tried to ban it from her emotions. But being with him made her question whether she had not really been lonely all the time. Because now she most definitely wasn't.

"Tomorrow we should gather our men and prepare them for battle", she suggested. After the soft kiss it might seem something improper to say. But that's who they were, unable to shake the queen or king off of them for too long. There was simply too much at stake, too many lives in their hands to forget about it.

"Aye. I will call a meeting in the morning."

They were still pressed together, lips just inches apart ready to be reunited any moment but a sudden knock at the door startled them and they quickly pulled apart. Within seconds they both put composed expressions on their faces again and Jon asked the late visitor to come in.

A burly man with a kind face opened the door.

"Sam." Jon exclaimed joyously and went to hug his friend. It was a wholehearted reunion and Dany couldn't help but be happy for Jon. She had seen him be familiar with Davos at Dragonstone but it was nothing compared to the reunions she had witnessed today. When he had seen Arya his whole face had lightened up. She clearly held a special place in his heart. Dany had seen it in his eyes. And his other siblings, Sansa and Bran, the way he had embraced them tightly. He genuinely loved all of them. She hadn't seen him be so intimate with anyone else before. It gave her an idea about the man he was before the war and wished to be when it was over. Caring, good-hearted, loved. And it was her most selfish wish to be a part of this future. Of his future. To be one of the people he cared about, to be someone who nurtured his good-heart and she wanted to be the woman who loved him. Who shared her life with his. Irreversible entangled. Together.

"It's so good to see you." Sam smiled in an well-nigh coy way.

"It's good to see you too", Jon declared and let go of him to introduce her. "Sam, this is Daenerys Targaryen."

"Oh." Sam stammered and wiped his hands on his trousers as if they would otherwise be too dirty for the hands of a queen. "Nice to meet you." They shook hands and he added "My queen?", as if he suddenly remembered.

"I already like him", she said jokingly to Jon and shot his friend a sincere smile.

"This is Sam Tarly a good friend of mine." Jon explained in a good mood. But the moment Dany heard Sam's last name she couldn't maintain her's.

"Tarly?", she asked agitated.

"Yes, Miss", Sam responded.

At his validation Dany felt like a weight had been suddenly dumped on her shoulders. She had never questioned her decision to burn the Tarlys not even after Tyrion pointed it out several times. It had been right to do it, there had been no other option to strengthen her position. She had found no joy in doing it but she had to do it nonetheless if she wanted to be acknowledged as the rightful ruler of Westeros. In the end it was not possible to save a Kingdom permanently if one appeared weak, ready to be dispossessed any given moment.

But a part of her was sorry that she had robbed Jon's dear friend of his remaining family. But now was not the time nor the right place to admit this. So she just said,

"Nice to meet you too", and let go of his hand.

"What are you doing here?" Jon wanted to know, clearly a little perplexed to find his friend at Winterfell. "I thought you were happy at the Citadel."

"Not entirely", he mumbled. "So I thought I could help you in your big battle", he looked expectantly at Jon and Dany. Clearly excited to join them in their undertaking. And Dany got an inkling why he was Jon's friend. He seemed like an honest and nice person, almost too pure for this world. She exchanged a knowing glance with Jon who clasped his friends shoulder.

"We appreciate it."

And then Sam took a deep breath and said something that would change their lives forever, even though they didn't know it then.

"And Bran and I need to tell you something. Actually it concerns both of you."

#

Jon entered the chambers of his little brother with Dany at his side. He had no clue what Bran and Sam wanted to talk to them about. But his nervousness rose due to Sam's mysterious words.

"I'm glad you're back.", Bran welcomed him. All his siblings had changed in the years they had been apart, that much he could already sense in the short amount of time that was granted to them today. Jon had heard that Bran became the Three eyed raven and his new skills had already helped them in their fight against the Night King. But to actually see his brother being this mythical creature was a whole different thing. The boy he once were was entirely gone, a change not just induced by a lost childhood. Bran seemed closed off and distant, - _less human_ and it broke Jon's heart.

"I wished it would be under other circumstances", Jon answered and stepped closer to get a better sight of his brother. He was seated in a wheelchair in front of the fireplace. And except for a few candles the flames were the only source of light in the room. They danced and cast shadows on the walls and their faces, causing a nearly eerie atmosphere.

"I've waited for you to come home", Bran said, watching the fire. "There's something you need to know." Slowly he lifted his head, his gaze switching between Jon and Dany.

Whatever it was that he needed to tell them Jon didn't like the heaviness with which Bran and Sam approached the information. He feared that it wouldn't be good news. Was it something about the Night King? What had Bran seen?

"We've lost the wall. The Night King and his army broke through yesterday."

His first impulse was to look at Dany. Funny how he hadn't known her a year ago but now her gaze was always the first he searched for when he was in discomfort. Her eyes were opened wide in surprise and he probably looked exactly the same.

They'd lost the wall already. He had hoped they would have had more time before the collapse of their most valuable protection. The clock had always been ticking behind his back with everything he had done these last months. And now time was unarguable running out.

Dany was the first to gain her composure back.

"But how?", she asked calmly.

This time it was Sam who answered and even before he spoke Jon recognized that Sam was sorry for what he was about to say.

"They have your Dragon. They brought it back from the dead and burned the wall down with it's fire."

There were few things that could choke Dany up, she invariably attempted to stay strong but Jon knew how much she loved her children and how badly it had pained her to lose Viserion. To find out that he had been turned into a lifeless shell, into their enemy shook her to her core. It was barely noticeable for someone who didn't know her so well but Jon detected it in the way the fire in her eyes flickered and she swallowed hard. In an attempt to comfort her he grasped her hand. He wasn't even thinking about doing it, it was a reflex and out of the corner of his eyes he noticed Sam's momentary astonishment by the intimate gesture. Who was he trying to deceive? Everyone could read his affection towards her from his eyes, he was that bad at hiding it.

"Does anyone know?" Jon asked. He tried to sort his jumbled thoughts and spot the next necessary steps.

"Not yet. We wanted to tell you first." Bran explained calmly.

Jon nodded. They needed to make a plan fast. Not just a vague idea of how they wanted to fight against the undead with their armies and their dragons but a real strategy. They needed to know everything, how far the undead had already marched, which route they were taking.

"We've built weapons and armors and garnered food." Sam chimed in. "Your sister Sansa supervised everything with a close eye. We're ready for battle."

That was a relief. They were prepared which meant they stood a chance. He was still holding Dany's hand, somehow it grounded him in this harsh reality were they would have to face an army of the undead soon and yet it calmed him in equal measure, knowing that they would face it together. But then she squeezed his hand lightly and let go.

"So we just need a strategy how to defeat them", she spoke out what he was thinking. Her moment of vulnerability was gone and back was the fierce warrior queen.

"Aye." Sam agreed.

"Than we should gather our best men right at dawn and make one." Amazed Jon watched how Dany took all her sorrow and anger and turned it into powerful determination. "We will fight them. And we will win."

She meant what she said and although Jon wasn't the most hopeful one he wished downright desperately that she was right. That they would win this war and that both of them would come out alive of it. That there was a future he could look forward to.

"Aye", he agreed. "We gather at dawn. You need to tell us everything you've seen, Bran and if you have any more visions you need to tell us right away."

Bran nodded his head in compliance. And for a few seconds Jon thought that this was what they had wanted to talk about. He pictured himself back in his chambers, in his bed, sleeping soundly with Dany in his arms, both of them gathering strength for the coming war. But then Bran spoke again.

"There's more you need to know", he declared.

"It's not about the war." Sam added quickly.

A strange feeling took hold of Jon. Maybe it was Bran's urgent tone or Sam's nervous gaze. But everything they had told him so far tonight hadn't been what they'd actually wanted to talk about. A lump built in his throat and his heart pounded faster. They wouldn't act like this if it wasn't something important.

"I'm not your brother." Bran ultimately stated like a matter of fact.

The words scurried through Jon's mind but he couldn't grab them. He surely must have misheard.

"What?" he breathed the word out and shortly after he felt Dany's fingers clasp around his again. Bewildered he waited for an answer. There had to be some explanation for an absurd statement like this. But Bran's next words were not the ones he wanted to hear.

"Ned is not your father."

"That's not possible", Jon denied instantly. His mind unwilling to wrap around the idea, that Ned who had even acknowledged him as his Bastard could lie about his parentage. He had been a honest man. An example of honor. All his life Jon had looked up to him and tried to follow Ned's lead. Why would he willingly raise a kid that wasn't his own and harm his reputation and his marriage with it?

"It is, Jon." Sam clarified with a sympathetic expression on his face."Bran saw it all in his visions and I have found proof in one of the books from the Citadel."

The noise in the room ebbed away, Jon couldn't hear the crackle of the fire or the men outside, just the breathing of the four people inside this chamber. His own and Dany's right beside him. Both of them quicker than usual, somewhat tense. Sam's across the room. Slower but noticeable agitated. And Brans's right in front of him. Regular and calm. Just like his voice when he said.

"Your father is Rhaegar Targaryen." At the mention of her brothers name Dany's hand twitched inside his. "You're the son of him and my aunt Lyanna Stark. You're not a bastard. They were married." Bran paused a moment and Jon could just stare at him blankly. Unable to do anything else."You're the heir to the Iron Throne."

At this moment Jon remembered how he had been laying on the cold ground at the wall, his blood leaking out of his body staining the snow a deep red. The feel of his lungs slowly collapsing, the struggle to draw another breath, the stinging pain all over his chest. All the noises fading little by little, his vision growing blurry with every other second. He remembered how it had felt to die.

This was similar.

He wouldn't die at Bran's words but his life would be altered forever. Exactly like it had been when he had been brought back from the dead. The day he had left Winterfell to take the black he was an insignificant Bastard, today he suddenly held the most important position in Westeros. Heir to the Iron Throne.

 _He wanted it to stop._

Would his life ever be his own? Things just kept happening to him. And he was always, _always_ in the crossfire. He didn't want any of it. He hadn't wanted to be King in the North, nor to be King of the Andals and the First Men. The Iron Throne was Dany's. She was the rightful heir. Not him. Dany. Thinking her name another realization set in. Her brother was his biological father. They were related.

"Jon?" Sam's voice called him. He emerged from the chaos of his thoughts and found himself still inside Bran's room. Carefully watched by three people close to his heart. But looking into their eyes was too much. Everything was just too much. Sam's caring gaze, Bran's attentive eyes, Dany's hand in his. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her.

At his aunt.

It was just too much. In one brisk motion he let go of her hand, turned around on his heels and stormed out of the room.

Life was really fucked up.


	3. Lies

**Me (in Jon Snow's voice): I'm sorry. I'm so sorry …. that it took me forever to update.**

* * *

 _Lies. Just a sentence of untruth cleverly presented and men fight each other and burn whole kingdoms down. Lifes forever destroyed due to a few words. Weapons may have the potential to kill a body but words hold the power to murder humans. Outspoken death sentences, verbal disputes, truths and lies. But lies not just kill. They can harm you in a different way. Interfere with your life, mold it into something unrecognizable. And the worst part is that you aren't even aware of it. You don't know that you are living a lie. And therefore, - when you finally learn the truth - , your entire world comes crashing down._

That's how Dany felt. She had spent her whole life in foreign countries, expelled from her own land _due to a lie._ She was still in the chamber with Bran and Sam. The cracking of the fire the only sound after Jon's tempestuous departure. All of them kind of worn out after the life changing conversation that took place just minutes ago.

"Can I see the book?", she asked Sam. It wasn't that she accused him of lying but more so the fact, that she needed to see it with her own eyes to process it faster. Her thoughts were rambling. Jon was a Targaryen. He was the heir to the Iron Throne. The wall fell. The Night King turned Viserion into a monster. These informations overcame her like a surprise attack and she couldn't decide on which news to linger first.

"Of course. I'll fetch it for you", he answered and left the room. Leaving Dany and Bran the only remaining people.

"He just needs time." Bran stated after a few seconds of silence passed.

It was the second time this evening that she had heard this words. All the Northerners needed was time, all Jon needed was time. She was sick of this expression. Because what they most definitely didn't have was time. They would face the Night King and his army sooner rather than later and if they wanted to win, everyone, - Jon and herself included, needed a clear head. But how could they when there were news like this? And lies, so many lies. Here she was again not capable of shaking the word out of her mind.

"His whole life is build on a lie," Dany just responded not entirely convinced that it would be that easy for Jon to come to terms with this revelation.

"Yours too," Bran replied with a deep voice.

"Yes. Everything could've been different."

For the first time since the revelations she was able to hold a thought and an image of what her stolen life might have looked like appeared in her mind. She could've been been raised in Westeros. Her family wouldn't have been slaughtered. House Targaryen would still rule over the seven kingdoms. Her brother Rhaegar, beloved by the whole kingdom, would've been the successor of her father Aerys II. And she, just the third of his children and a girl on top of that, would not even have been considered for the Throne. And as much as she disliked her own unimportance in this scenario, she would've had her family. It would have been a whole different but less lonelier life.

A loud crack of the fire brought her back into the present and she stopped her trail of thoughts. People tended to simplify things in order to comfort themselves and it wouldn't do anything good to dream up a what if.

If Robert hadn't lied about Lyanna's abduction, would she really have lived a happier life in Westeros?

It would be easy to blame him for everything. But that would be another lie, a lie to herself. It wasn't just Robert's untrue claims that made House Targaryen come tumbling down. It was a chain of lies and wrong decisions, piled on top of each other until everything fell apart.

The years-long secretiveness about the madness of her father and the inactivity of everyone around him. The actions of her brother Rhaegar to fled with his love but not confess to it and the untrue version of the events told by Robert Baratheon, who took his chance and overthrew the King.

No, it didn't do any good to dream up a what if. What if's, as alluring as they were, were swells of remorse and sorrow in the end. She lived in the here and now. Her life hadn't been like that. And nothing could change it.

"Why did you tell me?", she asked Bran suddenly curious. It would've been wiser to leave her in the unclear about her reduced position in the line of heritage to the throne. After all Sam and Bran didn't know her. They couldn't be sure, that she wouldn't sneak into Jon's room at night and kill her predecessor.

"He would've told you anyway." Bran stated and looked at her without any identifiable emotion on his face.

"But how can you be sure, I wouldn't hurt him?", she asked the question surely everyone else would be wondering about in a matter like this. But Bran didn't even flinch, he just looked at her with a knowledge glistering in his eyes.

"I'm the three eyed raven. I can see things of the past and the present. I saw you Daenerys Targaryen", he explained. "You wouldn't hurt him."

A shiver went down her spine and she opened her mouth in response but the words stuck in her throat. Jon had told her that Bran had visions and she even witnessed the truth of them herself when she had flown beyond the wall but nevertheless she was taken by surprise that he had watched her.

"You thought you were the only Targaryen left. You're not." Bran added after a few seconds of silence and the truth of his words hit her hard.

For years she had thought that she was the last of her house, alone in the world. She had come to terms with it, been proud of being the last of her kinsman to be still standing. It gave her strength and made her believe in herself even more. And she had used it as a shield, like the day Jon had come to Dragonstone. She had thought to herself then, that no matter what this King in the North would or wouldn't do, he couldn't hurt her or let her self-confidence waver. _Because she was Daenerys Targaryen, the last of her kind._

But deep down, in parts of herself she showed rarely, because people and sometimes even she herself tended to interpreted it as weakness, she had always longed for a family. Aside from Viserys she knew of her own only through books and stories. She had never met her parents or Rhaegar. But now a piece of her unknown brother unexpectedly found it's way back to her. Everything she had learned tonight might be overwhelming and put her whole world upside down but she couldn't be mad at this revelation, because now she had a family again. Someone she was bonded by blood with. The man she loved already.

"Here it is." Sam rushed back into Bran's chambers with a huge book in his hands.

What followed was a formality. Because by now Dany knew, that everything this two men had said tonight was true. Jon being a Targaryen answered so many questions she didn't realize she had. It was as if the last piece of the puzzle that was Jon Snow was solved. Sam put the book on a table and turned a few pages until he found the right paragraph and showed it to her. She looked at the written words and nodded in acceptance.

"Thank you, Sam."

"No problem, your grace", he grabbed the book and looked at her again. "I will go talk to him."

Her heart longed to say, that she was the one who should go. But her brain sensed, that Jon needed to contemplate everything. She might gained a family member but he had lost a father, he had looked up to his whole life. She didn't mind that they were related but in his family it was rare that you were with someone of your own blood. And then there was the matter of the crown, that she had fought for these last years and that should suddenly be his ...

She wouldn't give it up.

 _She couldn't._

She just knew that she was born to rule the seven kingdoms, felt the confidence in that buzzing through every fiber of her being. But she also knew, that Jon believed that too. He had chosen her as his queen even though it would've been wiser not to. He gave up to be a King, - for her.

They might had discovered tonight, that he was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne but he would never take it from her. She was sure of it because she understood the way his mind and his heart worked. He wasn't a man hungry for power, he just wanted people to be save. It was one of the reasons she had fallen in love with him.

She wanted to talk to him about everything. Wanted to help him come to terms with it. But he wouldn't want to talk to her, not the way he had let go of her hand and left without a glance. So she just nodded and watched Sam heading off towards Jon's chambers.

"I will retire for the night then too", she excused herself to Bran shortly after. Fully knowing, that she would lie awake the whole night thinking. And wishing Jon would lay beside her.

###

The crypt was dimly lightened but Jon could still make out Ned's stony face. He nestled against the opposite wall of the statue with Ghost at his feet. His fingers buried deep in the fur of his direwolf who purred satisfied at his master's touch. Jon was far away from that feeling, but at least Ghost's presence consoled him after everything that went down last night. The wall behind him pressed cold into his back, even through the sick layers of his winter coat. But he didn't mind. He had tried to sleep but after hours of tossing and turning, he had finally given up and left the warmth of his chambers for the place he felt the presence of his father the most.

The first shock was over but now realization set in and there were too much thoughts that bickered for his attention. The meeting would start soon and he hadn't been able to come up with a good idea how to approach the Night King and his army. At the word king his thoughts always trailed off, to the new information that he was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. He wished he could have laughed at the absurdity of it all, but all he was able to do was to sink deeper into his stormy sea of thoughts.

"Here you are. I was looking for you." Davos accent filled voice cut through the heavy silence. His adviser entered the crypt and came to a halt beside him."Everything alright?", he looked down on him, a half smile plastered on his face, clearly oblivious to Jon's bad mood.

"Actually, no." Jon answered honestly without lifting his head. Most other people he would've sent away but he trusted this man he had grown so close with and could use his life experienced advice.

"Not the answer I'd expected but okay." Davos sat down and waited patiently for Jon to explain himself, who needed a moment to decide where to begin.

"Davos, we've known each other for some time now. And you've been a good friend and adviser to me."

"I, at least hope so." Davos chimed in.

"You've to promise me to not tell anyone, what I'm about to tell you."

As far as Jon knew there would be five people alive knowing about the secret, after he would've told Davos. And albeit Jon tried to live as a honorable man, he wasn't sure when and if this secret was something worth spreading. He despised lies. Lies were the reason for so much chaos in the world. Even for the situation he found himself in now. And a part of him scorned himself for just thinking to add something to the ever growing bulk of untruth that surrounded them all. But he just didn't know what to do with his new knowledge. At least not yet.

"I promise."

"Bran told me something last night."

"That sounds ominous." Davos joked lightly and Jon couldn't help but shot Davos a look that signified: This was something serious. The older man fell silent immediately. And Jon turned his gaze away because otherwise he wouldn't have found the courage to say the truth out loud. He eyed Ned's statue again. It didn't look like him at all. But it didn't matter because when Jon shut his eyes he could conjure his features without effort. He remembered his kind eyes and his proud smile. All the lessons he had taught him, the love he had given him. And Jon realized that these things weren't all lies but some part of him tried to make out which parts were. What had Ned been thinking this whole time, when he had looked at him? And did he ever planned to tell him the truth? Jon was aware that he would never get answers to these questions. Ned had been gone for a long time and the answers with him.

"I'm not Ned Stark's son."

His words followed a heavy breath. They sounded wrong coming from his lips. Ned Stark was the only father he had ever known. When people had dismissed him as a Bastard, he had always reminded himself that it didn't matter as much because he still descended from something good, - his father. Except now Ned wasn't his father anymore. "I'm the son of his sister Lyanna."

Davos stayed silent for a moment, as if to ease down everything Jon had just said.

"So you still a Stark then", he finally concluded.

"Aye." Jon confirmed and needed to take a deep breath in order to say the next sentence. "And a Targaryen."

He didn't say it with conviction. He was a Stark, a Snow. Not a Targaryen. Dany was the Targaryen, not him. And at the thought of her he got on fast with his news in an attempt to push her emerging image from his mind. "My father was Rhaegar Targaryen", he almost swallowed the words. That was definitely a sentence he never had expected to say in his life.

"He is sure about that?" Davos asked carefully. Where his expression was collected a second ago, his eyes were now opened wide in a mixture of disbelief and concern. Jon just nodded in response. It was hard for him to tell the news he had gotten tonight. A part of him felt the uncomfortable truth of them slowly sinking in but another part felt like he was telling the tale of someone else's life.

"I'm not even a Bastard." The words tumbled out of his mouth, arduous and messy. As if they were glued to his tongue. _He was a bastard_ , was all he could think of in that moment. _He was a bastard._ It was the one thing that he had been reminded of incessantly during all his years.

"But that would make you …" Davos caught up with the meaning behind that revelation and Jon could just respond with a simple, "Aye."

Silence spread between them, both of them processing this new truth.

"That surely is someinformation." Davos finally admitted after some time.

"I don't want it. I didn't even want to be King in the North. I don't want to be King of all these kingdoms and besides there's a good chance I won't survive the coming war. So all of it doesn't matter anyway." Jon spat out all the words that lingered inside him the moment Bran had declared him heir to the Iron Throne. He had never chased power, it had always been given to him and he shouldered it's burden every day. He tried to take it with grace, to be worthy of the trust all his people put into him, to do the right thing and save them all. It was never power he had longed for, instead he was yearning for righteousness and peace.

"I know you don't see yourself as a ruler. But you're a good one. And you would make a good King for Westeros."

Jon just shot Davos another side eye.

"Does the Queen know?"

Dany's image appeared before his eyes again and he needed to swallow. She was the one destined for the throne not him and he was aware that he should tell this to her. But this was the only answer he got right now and it wasn't enough.

"She was with me when Bran told us."

"And?" Davos stared at him expectantly.

"I haven't talk to her since. I wouldn't know what to say. I have a claim to her throne and", he paused a moment and breathed in deeply before he could say the words that sounded so false on his tongue, "we're related, Davos."

"Oh, that's right." Davos murmured as if he hadn't thought about that. "Well, at least she's not your sister."

It was something absurd to say but it lightened the mood, both of them not capable of keeping a straight face even if it were just indications of smiles and sad one's at that.

"She's my aunt." It pained him to say these words out loud. He loved Dany. Loved her like no one else before. In the beginning it had scared him how deep he could feel for someone. How someone that was a stranger just months ago, could suddenly be this essential to him. But with time he got to understand this feelings better and learned to trust them. Up to the point where he could finally imagine things he had thought weren't in the cards for him. A wife, a family. But could he still want any of this now that he knew what they did was condemned as wrong?

It was so strange to just have these thoughts. It was as if he didn't recognize his life anymore. Some years ago he was a boy who's biggest problem was the disdain of his father's wife and now he pored over problems like how to save humanity, a heritage to the throne and incest. Suddenly his whole body felt cold and he was on the verge of shaking.

"In House Targaryen it's not uncommon to marry someone of your own blood."

Davos stated matter of factly and Jon was astonished by his lack of disgust. But then he remembered, that Davos had lived at times were the Targaryen's had reigned over the country and it was accepted by everyone that they chose someone out of their own bloodline to be with.

"Marry?" The word escaped him with a sigh. He had thought about marrying Dany before but that seemed so far away now.

"Oh com' on. I'm no fool Jon. I see what's happening between the two of you."

It wasn't really a surprise to Jon that his adviser knew about everything. He had been aware that he was bad at hiding his affection for her. This was just the confirmation.

"Besides a marriage would solve that crown problem for you." Davos continued. "You could rule together. I would say so far you both did a good job as allies."

Jon couldn't denounce that. But this was an option he couldn't pursue right now. Because he needed to find answers on his other questions first.

"I don't know what to do, Davos", he admitted in a tone, that left no speculation that he was absolutely overwhelmed by all of this.

"How about you go to that meeting with me first?" his adviser suggested friendly and rose from his sitting position. He outstretched a hand to Jon who looked at it for a few seconds, as if he needed time to push away all his thoughts in corners of his mind where they won't disturb the important meeting ahead of them and took it.

###

They met in the Great Hall. Just a few of them, the leaders of their armies, like Greyworm, their advisers and some of Jon's battle-tested lords. Dawn was breaking and it's dimmed light found it's way through the openings in the wall of the castle. As did the coldness of the icy temperature outside that even the fireplace couldn't cast out. And Jon saw the man from the warmer countries shivering from time to time, even though everyone dressed in their thick winter coats.

Tyrion was standing beside him, both of their gazes fixed on the map of the north on the table in front of them. Dany and Missandei hadn't arrived yet and Jon found his gaze wandering to the door continuously. Where her presence had started to calm him in this last weeks he was now nervous again at the pure thought of confronting her. He willed his mind to focus on the map again and not be overpowered by his troubled emotions. The people in the north needed him. And what they were preparing for was bigger than Dany or him or whatever was between them. So he tried to study the map.

"There should be here by now", Jon pointed to a spot in front of the drawing of the wall.

The Night King was marching towards Last Hearth and they needed to help the people who lived there. But with their armies it would take 10 days to get there at least and the army of the Undead could get there in 5 to 6. No matter how fast Daenerys and he prepared their armies for departure. _They couldn't get there in time._

The wooden doors of the room opened with a loud creaking and Daenerys and Missandei walked inside. At her sight Jon's throat tightened. She looked beautiful as ever and also regal and dignified. There were no visible signs that suggested she got life changing news last night. And a part of him was jealous that she had her emotions so well in check but another part was proud of the dignified queen she was. She belonged on the throne no matter his heritage.

"I think we're complete then", he declared promptly and looked away from her. It was easier to concentrate at the task ahead when he was not looking at her. In a few words he told them about what Bran had seen the other night and urged them all to act quickly.

"Bran had seen them last heading towards Last hearth. We need to help them", he finished.

"But we won't make it there in time with our men", Sir Jorah came to the same conclusion as Jon.

"Yes." Jon admitted.

"With my dragons I can be there within a day." Daenerys proposed and he could help but flinch lightly at her words. He had known that she would suggest it even before she spoke it out loud. She was willing to do anything to defeat the White Walkers and although he admired her unwavering boldness and hope, he feared for her safety.

"It's too dangerous, my queen." Tyrion objected. "For you and for your children."

"I know that it's dangerous", she cut in directly. "But it will buy us some time till our armies arrive."

"He is right, my queen. It would be a suicide mission." Varys sided with him.

"Than what are you proposing, we should do?" she asked with a sharp voice.

"Cersei's men should be in the north by now. Depending on their location they could get there faster than us." Tyrion presented his idea and in Jon's head it still sounded crazy that they spoke of the Lannister Queen as an ally in this war. And he recognized that a lot of the faces around him looked unconvinced. Dany's included.

"That's not a plan, that's a vague hope", she said and Jon couldn't denounce that. They needed a real plan, with feasible actions and no wishful thinking. "I can fly there", she added confident.

"And what if we lose another dragon?" Tyrion asked plainly and the whole room fell silent. Despite his intentions Jon's gaze lingered on Dany. He saw the battle between her determination and fear right across her face. She had not only lost Viserion, she learned that he had become a monster and she was still in pain about it. As if she sensed him staring her eyes fell onto his. Guilt washed over him like a wave. She was in pain and he had left her alone. Too absorbed in his own emotions.

"Last hearth just has a few hundred men for defense. You wouldn't stand a chance", he finally admitted with soft spoken words. "If we lose another dragon we're done."

Their gazes fixated onto each other across the huge table. She didn't like the idea of doing nothing that one was clear but she also realized the truth of his words. It took her a while but then she nodded in acceptance.

"So does anyone else has an idea?" she asked into the group. And they all looked at each other with expectant faces.

"They could leave." Missandei suggested after some time and everyone looked at her for further explanation.

"You mean they should abandon Last Hearth?" Dany asked.

"Yes. The Night King doesn't want the land, does he? He wants the people _on_ the land for his army."

"They don't need to defend their property, that's not what he is after." Tyrion approved pensively.

Jon's gaze fell back towards the map. Missandei was right. They didn't have to get to Last Hearth in time, they just needed to meet the people of Last Hearth in time. And a place benefiting for a fight.

"They could march towards Long Lake, we could meet them there. It's a good location for a battle." He declared and pointed towards the huge lake on the map.

"How many days would it take us to get there?" Dany asked already on board with the plan.

"Depending on the weather. 4 to 5 days." Jon answered her and they started to discuss the details.

"Nevertheless, we should inform Cersei and ask her to join us there", Jon concluded.

"You really think she will help?" One of his lords asked in disbelief. And he didn't know what to respond. So he looked at Tyrion in hope that Cersei's brother had an answer. Who nodded in understanding.

"Not out of her good heart", Tyrion explained, "that's for certain. But even she doesn't want to die at the arms of a dead man and become one herself. So yes, she will."

The lord nodded but his face showed that he didn't believe a word. And Jon couldn't blame him. He didn't trust her either but he tried to be confident about their alliance.

"We will send her a raven. We need all the help we can get", Dany decided with confident words but Jon recognized that she did it with reluctance.

"There's one more problem." Jorah warned them with caring eyes. "We don't have enough weapons ready."

Jon had thought about that too. The blacksmiths did all they could to forge real weapons like swords and axes out of the Dragonglass. But it took time and there wouldn't be nearly enough weapons ready for every soldier when they set off tomorrow.

"We simply don't have the time to forge weapons for everyone. We need to leave tomorrow or we won't make it to Long Lake in time", Jon answered. The dissatisfaction about it clearly audible in his voice. "Most men will have to fight with the rough pieces of Dragonglass we have."

"I could wait with my departure." Daenerys proposed, her gaze wandering over Jorah, Tyrion and Jon. "I could stay at Winterfell for a few more days. It would give the blacksmiths more time to forge weapons. My dragons are strong enough to transport them to Long Lake and I could catch up with you in time."

It sounded absolutely reasonable and Jon knew he had to be in favor of the plan, because there was no logical reason to be against it. Nevertheless, he wasn't font of the idea to leave Dany alone at Winterfell, even if it was his home. Jorah, who always advocated Dany's safety, was right. There were still Northerners who wished to harm her and he feared that without him, the Warden of the North, they would be more inclined to do so.

"Then I will stay by your side, my queen." Jorah volunteered and Jon wasn't surprised. It was obvious that he cared a lot for her. Maybe a little bit too much for his liking. He watched them exchanging looks, a wordless conversation only confidants where capable of, and felt that familiar sting of jealousy. But had he still the right to feel that way?

"Me too." Tyrion declared. "It's a reasonable plan. We need all the weapons we can get."

Dany's gaze fell on Jon and he realized that to the others it must look exactly like her previous exchange with Jorah had looked to him. _Intimate_. She wanted to hear his opinion.

And he realized something else. They worked well together, carving out a solution until everyone was satisfied. She was the solid ally he had needed in this war, but hadn't allowed himself to hope for. They might not know each other a long time but in these past months they had been through so much. It glued them together. Both of them could never simply step away from that. And because of it he had to stop his cowardness and talk to her.

"I will make sure you got everything you need for your prolonged stay, my queen", he approved.

When the meeting was done and the group dispersed he walked over to her. Her eyes evidently taken aback by his sudden approach.

"Can we talk?", he asked and his heart ached with a dozen emotions regarding her.

"Sure." Her voice sounded almost calm but the trembling of her lips betrayed her. And at the sight of her lips the last bit of his calmness vanished. Everything inside him yearned to be with her and call this self-imposed distance bullshit. But he knew it wasn't that easy.

"Tyrion and I want to talk to our army first, but afterwards?"

"Ok. In the godswood at midday?"

She agreed and left the room with Tyrion. He looked after her, although she was already long gone.

###

After the meeting Jon walked through Winterfell with Sansa, both of them supervising the preparations for their approaching departure. Sansa put him up to date with everything and he was proud that she fitted so well into the role he entailed her with. They went by the blacksmiths and saw Gendry working with the others to forge the Dragonglass into weapons. They worked quickly but precise and it was easy to identify the quality of their work. It would be good to have as much of these weapons as they could get.

"Jon", Arya's voice sounded from behind him and he turned around. It was still extraordinary for him to hear her calling his name again and lovely ordinary simultaneously.

"I want to come with you", she stated confidently and stepped towards him.

For a second he thought he hadn't hurt right but then he recognized her determination in the way she held her body and elongated her chin. She meant it and it reminded him once again, that she wasn't that little girl he used to know anymore.

"Where I'm going it will be very dangerous." He told her even though he knew that she wasn't naive but the caring brother inside of him just wished her out of harm's way.

"I know", she assured him and her once innocent eyes mirrored now the harsh reality with all it's pain and brutality.

He had heard some of the things she had done and the skills she acquired and it wasn't hard for him to imagine his fierce little Arya as a strong-willed warrior. And they needed every capable soldier they could get. But still, - a lot of people would die in this war and he didn't want Arya to be one of them. She recognized his hesitation and draw her sword.

"Than let me show you why you should take me with you", she dared him playfully but nonetheless resolutely and he couldn't help but be surprised and impressed by it.

The moment she faced him with needle he had been aware that it would be useless to try to talk her out of this idea. She had already made up her mind and wouldn't back down. And who was he to bar her from fighting? She was her own person. Always had been even when she was a kid. And he had always known, that she wasn't build for fine dresses and housekeeping but for adventure. So he didn't back down from her challenge and drew his sword too.

"Ok. Show me what you got", he prodded her.

She was the first to make a move which he warded off easily. But so did she when he tried to attack her. It was rapidly clear that this would be an even fight. They didn't haste any of their blows. Instead they encircled each other, learned how their counterpart moved and considered their strikes. The longer their fight endured the more fun Jon had with it. Arya and him had always been playful with each other and he was glad that maturity didn't change that. And after everything that had happened the last 24 hours, it was a welcome distraction from all the sorrow gnawing at his heart.

With time their fight got more fierce. He pushed her backwards but she spun out of his reach with an almost elegant move. Blade clashed on blade. And although hers was small in comparison to Longclaw she used needle very wisely. It got on like that for minutes but when she tried to grab her dagger from her belt to finish him off he used her one second of inattention and brought Longclaw to her neck. She stopped her motion immediately and looked up to him. At first she seemed upset about losing but then a big smile spread on her face, which he could only reciprocate.

"I would have been disappointed if you'd lost", she teased him and he let go off her.

He had recognized that she'd changed but he hadn't fully understood it till now. She was a fighter, no doubt about that and he would be lucky to have her join him in this war.

"You can come", Jon finally agreed and her smile grew even wider.

The few people around them started to cheer and they put their swords away.

"That was really cool." Gendry praised from behind his anvil.

"It was." Jon agreed and if he didn't know better he could have sworn that his fierce warrior-sister blushed.

###

Winterfell wasn't pretty, thought Dany as she wandered over the estate. The gray stone that peaked through the snow couldn't hide it's roughness. Everything here was colorless and hard. But that didn't mean that she didn't like it. Though it was hard, fireplaces had never been so cozy to her and though it was colorless it made the deep red heart tree located at the godswood even more breathtakingly beautiful. She had read about this trees and what they stood for and she comprehended that they were special to the people in the North.

A chilly blast dragged at her clothes and whirled the loose streaks of her braid around. The coldness didn't exactly bother her but she felt it increasing with every passing day and it became an analogy for her: the colder it got, the closer the army of the dead got. Their meeting had proved it. Time had been running out. _The great war was here._

For weeks she had known that this moment would come but with everything that had happened between Jon and her, she wished she had more time. Because even though she was fiercely determined to defeat the Night King, she was also no fool and knew that the risk that one or maybe even both of them could lose their life in this endeavor, was real.

She came to a halt near the heart tree, still quite some distance away. Here he was with his head bend down in thought. They were so many things she wanted to say to him. So many things she wanted to do. But it would all need to wait, perhaps even forever. What she would give to have just one more morning with him, like the ones on the boat. Snuggled beneath a blanket, wrapped in each others arms. On the verge of night and day. When they were not ready to let each other go yet and used every precious minute to steal a kiss, a touch, an intimate conversation more to endure the looming day.

Jon recognized her before she could speak and shot her a woeful glance. He didn't meant it in a rejecting way, there was still an intimacy in his eyes, but it felt colder than the icy wind around her. Since the moment they had met they'd gravitated towards each other, a little bit closer every day, but now it seemed the pull between them had ended and, for the first time, he withdrew himself from her.

"I'm sorry I ran away last night. I don't know what came over me. I was just overwhelmed I guess", he admitted and Dany saw the guilt in his eyes and wished she could wipe it away. He didn't choose any of this but still he felt responsible for it. It was a behavior she noticed often with him. He burdened himself with responsibility, always trying to right the wrongs.

"It's okay", she assured him. "That were some tough news for both of us."

"I would never take the throne from you", he clarified with firmly spoken words.

Did he really think that was her biggest worry? That she could lose power?

"I know. That's not what I meant", she breathed in deeply starting to form the right explanation in her head. "I meant that I learned that my brother wasn't the kidnapper everyone claimed him to be and that I had lived a life in exile because of lies on both sides."

He looked at her and she saw the understanding glimmering in his eyes. Both their life's had fallen victim to false words, which had held so much power that their courses had been forever changed.

"Does anyone tell the truth anymore?", he said in a low voice more to himself than to her. And she could imagine what he must be thinking. When even Ned, the most righteous man he knew, lied in this huge proportions was there anyone left in this world not capable of lying?

"You do." It escaped her lips quietly but firm.

"And I'm a fool for it, aren't I?"

"No. No it's one of the things I admire about you. This life hasn't twisted you yet. You're something pure in this messy world."

He shook his head with a wry smile on his face.

"Pure", he led the word dance across his tongue. "I killed hundreds of men, I haven't kept my vow and slept with a wildling woman, I died and my body rotted for days until I was resurrected and", he paused for a moment and caught her gaze, "I fell in love with my aunt."

Dany needed to swallow. It was the first time he used that word. _Love_. Yet she imagined it always under different circumstances. Not necessarily happy ones but in her imagination his declaration was always an acknowledged truth. Something powerful they both hang on to. Now it sounded like a problem to him.

"I'm not pure. Far from it."

Involuntarily she stepped a little bit closer. There it was again, the never ending pull she felt towards him.

"You're to me. I know you don't want to be a Targaryen. But I don't mind. Since my brother died I always thought I was the last of our blood. Alone in this world. But now I know that I'm not. That you, - you of all people", she couldn't stop her eyes from watering, "are my family."

Jon looked at her again and all iciness vanished, replaced by this soft look of him that tugged at her heartstrings.

"I want to be your family. I want that for some time now but in a different way."

It hurt her to hear this confession and get it ripped away from her the same moment.

"I don't know how to feel about all of this yet. I'm sorry. I wish I would be as certain as you but I'm not." His voice almost cracked and her heart beat so heavy in her chest every breath seemed hard.

"I understand that." She wished she could be angry with him. That she could hit him with harsh words to lift some of the pain she was feeling. But how could she be mad at him when she got where his rejection was coming from? "I was raised as a Targaryen. The idea to be with someone of your own blood was never foreign to me. But it is to you. I get that." Even though it broke her heart.

"It is foreign to me but you're not. But I just don't know what that means", he explained with a note of despair in his voice.

"So what now?", she asked even though she knew she would get the answer she hated so much.

"Just give me some time."

And of course she would give it to him. Because what else was there to do beside being patient and hope that someday he would love her again without shame?

###

The raven arrived at dawn. A strong bird with feathers as black as the armor of the Night's Watch and as thick as the fur of the Northerners. It was without a doubt one of the Bastards ravens, Cersei thought when she caught the sight of it ascending to the castle. She was standing on the balcony, a glass of red wine in her hand, looking over King's Landing. It looked so different in the winter. Were it once was colorful and warm it was now gray and cold. But beautiful, she contemplated. It looked beautiful. Like a kingdom made of ice. It didn't take long for one of her servants to arrive with the massage in hand.

"A massage from Winterfell, my queen", the young girl said and bowed before her.

Cersei didn't even recognize the respectful gesture, she just grabbed the scroll of the girls hand and send her away. Curiosity took over when she opened the scroll in a hurry. Of course it was from Tyrion and not the Bastard himself. Her darling brother really seemed to think he could influence her.

 _The Undead broke through the wall a few days ago. We're gathering our troops immediately and will walk towards Long Lake to meet there with the men of Last Hearth. We're asking you to do the same._

Her lips curled up in a half smile. He actually believed she would help them from now on. It would almost be sweet if it weren't so pathetic. He could ask all he wanted, even begged her if he liked, but she would never help that bitch of a wannabe queen and her lapdog, the Stark Boy. Her fingers crumbled the paper in her hand. She would answer them that her army would be on their way. Should they think that she was willing to help and be terrified when they finally understood that no help was coming. It would be just one lie more. It didn't matter to her. In this never ending game of thrones everyone was a liar. And she was a good one.

With her plan in mind she took one more sip of her wine. Should her idiot brothers confederate with the Dragon Queen, she didn't need them. All she needed was herself. There might have been a time when she had been acquainted with loneliness and Jamie had been the only one capable to cast it away. But this time was gone. It didn't matter to her anymore how good it had felt to be fucked by him or how much she had loved the power she had over him. How he had never been able to resist her advances and always caved into the sensation of taking her hard and making her scream in pleasure. No, nothing of it was important anymore. She pushed all of these memories aside, locked every feeling deep away in the dark corners of her heart, she neglected. Jamie had chosen his side and forfeited every possibility of reconciliation with it.

She was stronger than any nostalgia or affection he could evoke. Stronger than Jamie. Stronger than both of her brothers. She gulped the rest of the wine down her throat. They would see that no one messes with Cersei Lannister.

###

At night Winterfell got quiet. The people hid behind closed doors, the noise ebbed away with them and the light, almost dazzling at day due to all the snow, faded into darkness. Dany walked over the floor to her chambers. She had paid a visit to her men, preparing them for their departure in the morning. Her whole body and mind ached in exhaustion. Since they had arrived yesterday everything had been chaos.

The lords who didn't want her as their queen, the information that the army of the Undead was nearer than they had thought and the reveal that Jon was a Targaryen. It had been a long 48 hours and all she wanted to do was sleep. Last night her stirring emotions hadn't let her but now her body started to feel heavy and it would claim some much needed rest as soon as she'd laid down. It would be for the best. She didn't want to stay awake with all the thoughts rambling through her head and the sadness that loomed over her heart. That was the problem with love, Dany contemplated. You felt everything more deeply. The good and the bad.

She sought for her room with a candle in her hand, lightning her the way. Winterfell was much larger than she had imagined and it took her a while to get the right one. As most doors at this place it made a light creaking noise when she opened it and she stepped inside. She saw the big wooden bed in front of her and she couldn't wait to lay down in it's soft and warm blankets. Even though she yearned for an entirely different warmth, if she was to be honest. But she didn't knew if she would ever feel it again. How could she already miss something as if it were essential to her, if she just had it for a short while anyway? And when had Jon's and her life entangled so much with each other that it was impossible to disjoin them ever again?

The door closed with a dull thud behind her and she moved over to the bedside table putting the candle down. She wouldn't find the answers to this questions tonight but hopefully she would find some rest instead. But the moment she ended that thought a noise from behind startled her. Dany turned around instantly. Not thinking about her movement, just acting out of instinct.

The room was incredibly dark but she spotted the shadow rising up in front of her regardless. Her eyes widened in shock and her heartbeat that was calm just seconds ago pounded almost hurtful in her chest. She wanted to scream, to make herself known to the others that laid just a few meters distance from her but everything happened so fast, she didn't get a chance. The dark figure grabbed her hard and she saw the blade in it's right hand, shining in the candle light. The intruder would shove it into her body if she didn't act fast. It's pointy end was already moving towards her heart.

Her throat went dry. She needed an idea. _Now!_ With shaking hands she grabbed the candle from behind her and pushed it into the figures eyes. It cried out in pain and let the blade slip out of it's hands in an attempt to fumble for the injury. Dany used the second of distraction to run for the door. But her attacker recovered quickly and stopped her before she even got close, clasping her body with strong hands like a bird in the grasp of a lion.

"We know no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark", the voice of a man whispered agitated into her ear. Some drops of his saliva rained down on her cheek and her whole body shivered in disgust. But somehow this awful sensation awakened her survival instinct even more. She hit him hard with her fists, scratched him with her fingernails, kicked him with her legs. Every small action that came to her mind. All the while she thought, that this couldn't be the end for her. Not after everything she'd been through. She reminded herself of all the situations in which her life could've ended and that she had come out of all of them stronger than before.

 _No! She wouldn't die like this._

Not tonight.

She felt herself calm a little bit and then she was finally able to scream.

* * *

 **Hey guys!  
I really am sorry, that it took me forever to update. This chapter was a hard nut to crack. It has only a few similarities with the one I had in mind first. (But I think that's the exciting part of writing because you never really know, where the story might take you.) And when I finally finished this chapter, I lost my beta reader and needed to find a new one. So I want to give huge thanks to my dear friend Nancy for correcting!**

 **I sincerely hope that it will never again take so long for a new chapter to be published. I just want to affirm you that I love writing this story and I will not abandon it.**

 **And lastly I want to thank you for your patience and I hope you liked the new chapter. I know that there was a lot of drama and angst in it. But I promise it won't be like that for too long :-)**

 **Your St_orygirl**


	4. Wishes

**Hey guys,**

 **first of all: I'm really sorry I pulled a GRRM on you and haven't updated in so long.**

 **Second: I'm heartbroken about the events of Season 8. So I want to assure you that this fic is and will stay absolutely Pro-Dany, Pro-Jon and Pro-Jonerys. I hope I can a write a Season 8 that will do the characters, we love so much, and the story justice.**

 ** **I advise to read chapter 3 beforehand because I haven't updated in forever and this is an immediate continuation of it.****

 **Thank you all for reading!**

* * *

The scream echoed through the hall. Like a wave rolling over the surface of the sea, regardless of any ships, on and on, until it wore off at shore. It broke through the solid stonewalls, filled up Tyrion's room and ebbed away in the dark parts of Winterfell, where no one would hear it anyway.

Tyrion was sitting in a wooden chair in front of the fireplace, when Daenerys scream pierced his ears. Immediately, he grabbed tighter onto the glass of wine in his hand. For a second, he just sat there, frozen, asking himself if he had heard right. But then realization set in and he was up in no time. As he was running towards his queen's chambers, every fear he had about her safety these last few years came to his mind. Like long-lost memories of nightmares that in truth had been warnings all along. For one weak moment, he wished Jon Snow would never had set foot into Dragonstone. Everything had changed the day the King in the North and Daenerys met. If it weren't for him, they would never had come here and she wouldn't be fighting a war in a land, she wasn't welcomed in.

He knew, his thoughts were wrong. If it weren't for Jon they would have learned about the looming danger in the north, too late. They would have been taken by surprise when the Night King and his army attacked them and surely would have paid with their lives for it.

What they did now, fighting this war for humanity, was the right thing to do. And that Daenerys didn't run from it, but faced it with hope and determination only proved, why he had chosen her as his queen.

He just hoped, she would make it out alive.

He reached her door and stopped in his tracks. There she was. Splattered with blood but alive. She was lying on the ground, breathing, a dead body beside her and in front of her stood Arya Stark with a bloodstained dagger in her hand. The young girl cleaned it on her sleeve and put it away, as if it was the most natural thing to do. A mixture of relief and fear swept over him. Was his queen wounded? What exactly had happened here?

"Your grace?" he asked as he stepped in. He didn't miss how troubled his voice sounded. She looked up at him with bewildered eyes. The shock about the recent events still visible in her expression.

"I'm OK. He didn't hurt me. Arya killed him before he could do anything," she spoke immediately and got up. Like usual, she didn't let her own fear overtake her. A wave of relief swept over him at seeing her, not only alive but determined to be strong as well. But before he got a chance to say anything else her room, which must have been awfully solitary just minutes ago, suddenly flooded with people.

Jorah rushed to her side and made sure she was OK. Varys inspected the corpse. Others just stood there interested but unsure what to do with themselves. Tyrion observed all of it and then it hit him.

There were no guards.

"Where are your guards?" he asked out in the blue.

"Obviously not with me." Daenerys just answered cryptically, but firm and he felt the anger starting to boil in his blood at her answer. She seemed to notice his distress, so she sent everyone except her advisers and Arya away. When they were alone he addressed her again.

"Their job is to protect you, my queen, they obviously failed at that." He tried to sound calm, but he himself recognized the sharpness in his words.

"I was outside supervising the preparations for the departure of my men. Someone needed help to load a wagon and I asked my two guards to help him while I continue with my supervision. They needed too long and I was tired, so I decided to walk the short way to my chambers alone."

"You decided …" he couldn't even bring himself to finish his sentence. He was furious. She chose to walk alone in the dark halls of Winterfell!? Was she out of her mind?

He wanted to scream out loud. To grab her and shake all this nonsense out of her. But of course, he didn't do it. Instead, he stood still and swallowed hard as if he wanted to take every noise he was about to make with it. Down, down. Where no one would ever hear them.

 _If you die, we're all lost._

The words he once said to her echoed through his mind. He sounded desperate then. And he was desperate now.

"It was naive of me. I see that now." She wasn't someone to agree to weakness very often. Especially in front of others. So he figured that she, herself was angry about it.

"Two guards are always supposed to be with you."

"And they will be from now on," she affirmed him. He knew that she meant it and he felt his anger slowly subside. Disappointment grew in its place. She was supposed to be smarter than that. _He knew_ that she was smarter than that. There had to be a logical explanation that made her so reckless. Something that distracted her, or someone …

As if on cue, Jon appeared out of nowhere.

"What happened here?" He stood in the doorframe, dressed only in his night attire and took in his surroundings. And in the end, when it was obvious, that he already answered his question by himself, his gaze landed on Daenerys. By now Tyrion had often seen a look of worry on the Stark boys face. Sometimes, it almost appeared as if he was born with this expression. But he never before had seen his eyes troubled like this. Involuntarily, he looked over to Daenerys and the emotions that crossed her face were also new to him. On it, he discovered worry but also hope, vulnerability but also strength.

Tyrion had known that they had fallen in love with each other. But he didn't fully fathom the depths of their feelings until this very moment. When both of them just stood there and watched each other. And then he knew with sudden certainty, that what he saw wasn't only his queen looking at her lover, he saw his queen looking at her king.

"There was an attack," Daenerys answered him, even if an answer wasn't needed anymore. "I'm fine. Thanks to Arya." She shot the other woman a grateful look, which she returned respectfully.

It was the first time since Tyrion came here, that all eyes were on the youngest Stark girl, without whom this night likely would have ended badly. She was the hero of the night. The Lifesaver. But yet she acted like she did nothing special.

He had never really met her before. But somehow he had always imagined her as a little girl. Tiny and innocent. But here she was, murdering grown men as if it was the easiest thing to do.

Through these last years, he came to know a few of the Stark children. And of this he was sure: They were though as the North they came from.

Jon stepped even further into the room. And for a short moment, Tyrion thought he would finally dismiss their secretiveness, walk over to Daenerys and take her into his arms. But he didn't. He stopped himself and focused on the corpse before him instead.

"Do you know the man?" Tyrion asked Jon, glad that they could finally bring all their minds back towards the problem in front of them. Who was this dead man? And was he working for somebody?

"No," he shook his head. "Have you seen him before?" he asked his sister but she also negated.

"We need to find out who this was and if he worked with somebody," Varys declared emphatic.

"I know someone who might tell us that," Jon said.

And Jon's answer was exactly what Tyrion needed to hear.

###

Bran rolled into Daenerys chambers, his wooden chair scraping over the stony ground. Dany stood by her bed and Jorah and Tyrion like watchdogs at her side. She hadn't seen him till last night and even so she liked his honesty with which he approached her then. There was always some eerily atmosphere following his entrance. Nevertheless, she was glad he came because she hoped he could give her some of the answers, she needed tonight.

"Bran." Jon welcomed his brother and she tried to not look at him for too long. Inside her, a fire had started to burn. It was wild and consuming. Whoever was responsible for this attack, she wanted them to pay. And all the sadness she felt towards the situation with Jon was molded into anger and frustration. Whenever she looked at him now, she was angry at herself for letting him into her heart. Angry at him for the sudden withdrawal of his pleasant presence at her side. Angry at the world to give her something, she didn't ask for, but now realized she didn't want to live without.

"Thank you for coming," she added.

"How can I help?" Bran asked and they explained the situation to him.

"So it would really help, if you could try to see if this man worked alone or if he had an accomplice," Jon explained the rest.

Bran didn't say anything. He just sat still, his eyes fixated on the dead body. Dany watched him with curiosity. Was he already trying to coax a vision out of his mind or was he not interested in this whole endeavor? She couldn't tell. Bran Stark was a riddle to her.

"I'll try," he said, after what seemed to be minutes and she felt some of her tension go. He closed his eyes.

###

 _When he opened them again Bran was downstairs in the great hall. He could feel his legs carrying the weight of his body, but it didn't matter to him anymore. With time, his body became nothing, but a shell to him, in which his mind and soul rested._ He was here to see. _And what he saw was the dead man. Alive. There was no hatred in his expression, - just joy. It was loud, dozens of man chanting "The King in the North" over and over again. And the dead man right between them. Smiling._

 _The next moment Bran found himself in a small kitchen. Before him sat the dead man at an old wooden table. He was surrounded by two girls. One his same age and one not older than five._

" _He should have stayed at Winterfell," the man said while he ate his soup. He seemed distressed, lifting the spoon with force to his mouth._

" _He clearly believes that he is doing the right thing," his wife answered with an encouraging smile on her face. But the man just took an angered bite from his bread._

" _He will die. She will kill him. It's what happened to his uncle. It will happen to him. The Targaryens are mad."_

 _The location changed again. The dead man was now talking to a friend right outside Winterfell's walls. Snow was falling down around them, their noses already deep red due to the chilly air._

" _She will never be my queen," his friend said. He was older than him. Hair already grey and his face covered in wrinkles. "Her father's actions killed my father and my brother. How could I ever serve a queen whose family destroyed mine?", he was furious._

" _I don't know," the dead man said helplessly. "I don't know," he repeated._

" _We can't just watch while the Targaryen line rises again and brings as much misfortune as back then."_

 _At this sentence, the dead man pricked his ears._

" _What are you suggesting, we do?", he asked, even though it seemed, he already knew the answer._

 _One last shift. Bran could feel he was close to the whole truth of this nights events. He stood at a window on Winterfell's west side, looking down on Daenerys armies. Right beside him, the two persons who seemed to be responsible for all of this. It was night, what made it easy for him to spot Daenerys's bright head between the soldiers. She turned around, clearly looking for someone._

" _Like we planned. When her guards return and they're on the way to her chambers, I will distract them. You'll just need a few seconds to put the blade into her heart", the older man said and the dead man nodded._

" _You really think they will buy your drunken befuddlement?", he asked a bit unsure about their plan._

" _They will. After all, I'm an old drunk," he said it with determined sarcasm._

 _They watched the queen a bit longer, who seemed to grow more impatient and tired with every passing minute. If Bran had been still his old self, he would surely have had sympathy for her exhaustion. But now, he just watched her and asked himself, when she would finally give in and leave. When she finally did, the two people beside him turned towards each other in surprise._

" _Even better," the old man said and Bran didn't escape the uneasiness in his voice. However easy their plan had seemed in theory, now it suddenly got real. "Go to her room. Now," he directed his companion and he did._

 _But it was his death sentence, not Daenerys._

 _###_

When Bran looked at him again, Jon saw in his eyes that his brother had found the answer.

"He had an accomplice," he confirmed and a chill went down Jon's spine.

He wished, - he wished so much that his home, the place he loved so dearly, would be a safe haven for Dany. But of course, it wasn't. Whoever this other conspirator was, he wouldn't be the last one. There would be more people wishing for her death.

He wished, - he wished so much that he could just walk over to her and hold her. To give her at least some sort of safety. He felt the longing to do exactly that, deep in his bones, as if they would put themselves in motion without his consent at any given second. But he willed himself to stay and he hated everything about it. He hated that he couldn't keep her safe, that he felt so helpless about it and that there was suddenly this distance between them.

"Who?" he asked and his voice sounded husky. Whoever this other man was, he would pay for what he tried to do to Dany.

Bran's gaze shifted from him towards Dany and the others. As if he didn't know how to simply spill the truth. Jon waited, agitated for his answer. But when Bran finally opened his mouth, Jon wished he hadn't heard it.

"Lord Stoneshed."

More lies. More betrayal. Was the only thing Jon thought. He wasn't even angry about it. It's like, he got used to them within the years and especially these last hours. He almost wanted to laugh at all the newfound revelations. Like a madman who finally had enough and crossed the line between sanity and lunacy. But then his gaze fell onto Dany with her tousled hair, crumpled clothes and bloodstained face and the laugh got caught in his throat. She looked battered.

' _She almost died tonight',_ he heard his own voice whispering inside him. Almost killed by one of his men. In his home. He couldn't even fathom how sad that made him.

"How was he involved?" Dany asked Bran. She did it with a steady voice, but he heard the anger radiating beneath every letter.

"He was the one with the idea. This one," Bran looked down onto the corpse, "was just the executioner."

Jon knew what that meant. Lord Stoneshed had to die. He didn't know him well. They had only exchanged a few words in these last year, after he had decided to follow him. And he had only done so after the Battle of the Bastards, when it had been the save option. But Jon knew he had a family. People that depended on him and now they had to take him away from them. He hated to do this to them, to rob a family of their father. Because he knew the feeling of losing someone all too well. But there was no avoiding it now. Lord Stoneshed chose his actions and he needed to pay for them.

"We need to find him, your grace," Jorah spoke out, what Jon was thinking. Oftentimes, the queen's adviser evoked nothing but a sense of jealousy in Jon, but in moments like these, he was grateful that Dany was surrounded by so many people who loved her and would die for her.

"Go," she said, while looking right at Jorah. And with one tiny word the fate of a man was sealed.

"I know where he lives," Arya chimed in. Her eyes on Jon, as if she was asking for permission to accompany Jorah. He granted it with a small nod.

"You're sad, he has to die," Dany stated, after Arya and Jorah had left with a few soldiers. Since Jon entered the room, she had avoided looking at him but now her big beautiful eyes were set on his. Where they once looked at him with fondness, there was now anger burning behind them and Jon wasn't ready to be hit by it.

"Yes. He is one of my lords," he tried to explain. Someone who should kill enemies alongside him and not betray him.

"He tried to murder me," her voice grew harsher.

"Yes, and he has to die because of it," he blurted out the obvious in an attempt to make her understand, that he didn't want to handle things differently than her. "But I thought he was my ally. So yes, I'm sad he chose the wrong path."

"Or sad that he got caught?" her fiery eyes glared at him and he questioned if he had heard correctly.

"You're not thinking clearly," he stated with eyes opened wide in disbelief. "I'm devastated that you got attacked. In my house. By my people."

Even in the current state of their relationship, she surely must know how much she meant to him. If someone would hurt her badly or even worse, it would kill him. Maybe not physically, but it would kill him nonetheless.

"Stop it, you two!" Tyrion intervened firmly, stepping between the two of them. Only now Jon realized how close they got while fighting. She seemed to notice it too. All of a sudden and, almost in unison, they both took a large step backward to bring some much-needed space between them.

###

Tyrion wanted to slap both of them. The queen was almost killed and instead of focusing on the second conspirator, they wallowed in this wannabe fight. Despite their feelings, there was an obvious tension between them tonight. He didn't know what caused it, but whatever it was, it clearly distracted them. He inhaled sharply. This was what he had been worried about and it seemed, that within an hour, all of his fears had come true.

"We're all riled up," he continued. "It's obvious, we are all relieved nothing happened to you, my queen. But we need to decide how to approach these happenings."

"There's nothing to decide. The man has to die," Daenerys said through clenched teeth and he almost rolled his eyes at her thick-wittedness.

"That's obvious, yes," he tried to calm himself. She wasn't making it easy for her hand these last weeks. "But how? When? In front of who?"

Tyrion took a step closer towards her and regarded her with an inquiring look. Her posture relaxed immediately after the affirmation of the men's execution.

"It will only ignite the anger of the Northerners more if we make a spectacle of it. The southern conqueror killing one of them in front of them." Varys, who stood still in the background during most of this night, assumed and Tyrion was glad, that they were finally able to discuss these matters.

"But they need to know, what happens to traitors," Daenerys pointed out, sounding more like herself again.

"Yes. We need to show them. Or else there will be imitators." Tyrion agreed and a wave of relief swept over him, that they were finally on the same page again. He wasn't fond of her sometimes ruthless demonstration of power, but in this case, the Northerners needed to see what direful fate would await them if they tried to harm her.

"I will do it." Jon suddenly said in his usual northern accent before anyone else had the chance to voice their ideas. His expression was saddened but decided. "You're right," he explicated. "They need to see that there's no mercy for people who try to murder the queen. But Daenerys can't do it, it will only deepen their idea of the mad king's daughter. It happened here at Winterfell. In my home. I'm the one who has to kill him."

Tyrion sensed that Jon wouldn't allow any opposite views. And really, there was no arguing against his plan. It sounded reasonable. It was obvious that he hated to be the executor, but felt that it was his duty to do so. And that was a much-needed reminder for Tyrion why he liked Jon. He wanted to do the right and honorable thing.

Tyrion's gaze shifted over towards Daenerys. Somehow he kind of expected her eyes on him in their usual way of speechless communication. Without a word, she would be asking his opinion and he would give it to her in a simple nod, an expressive look. But this time, her attention was fixated on Jon. Not in an amorous or emotional way, just thoughtful. Tyrion could read off her face, that she held the same thoughts, he had a second ago.

"Than that's how we'll do it," she declared.

And for the first time, since he realized that feelings had started to blossom between them, Tyrion asked himself, if his worry was justified. Because as much as emotions might boil over every now and then, at the end, when it mattered, they always came back to being leaders.

###

"Tomorrow morning. Right after sunrise." She said and dismissed everyone after they had discussed the ideas for the next day. Lord Stoneshed had been put in a cell and new guards were positioned at Dany's door. Jorah, more than willing to be one of them.

"I'll make sure you're safe, Khaleesi," he vowed and Jon felt a pang of jealousy in his chest. He wanted to be the one to keep her safe at night, but that possibility seemed so far away now.

"I should go then too," Jon said but he didn't move, he just looked at her. With the dried blood and a regal expression on her face, she looked all like the warrior queen she was. It was a terrifying sight because _ultimately a warrior's fate was death_ and Jon wanted to scrub the blood from her face and diminish every proof of death surrounding her. But at the same time, she looked so beautiful, so strong. It made his heart swell with pride and something else he didn't want to think about.

"You should," she agreed coldly, avoiding his gaze.

This friction between them was unbearable for him. In all the months they'd known each other, it had been like that only once. When they met in the throne room at Dragonstone. He couldn't go back to that now, to being strangers. Not ever.

"You know, I would never want you to get hurt," he appealed to her and wanted to step a little bit closer. But Jorah still stood at her side, eying them with obvious discontent, so Jon stayed where he was.

For a long while, Dany said nothing. Her face a mask and underneath, she hid her feelings.

"Leave us alone," she finally said and for a hurtful second Jon thought she meant him, but then he realized she was speaking to Jorah.

A defeated acceptance crossed the queen's advisers features. And if Jon weren't aware of Jorahs feelings towards Dany, he might have felt sympathy for him. But under these circumstances, he was glad when he left the room and closed the door behind him.

"I know you didn't want me to get hurt. This last day has just been …"

She didn't finish her sentence, because there was no word which would do the developments of the last day any justice. It was not the first time that things changed rapidly for him, but he was still surprised by the crushing weight of it. And he figured Dany felt the same.

"I know," he let her know he understood her. Both of them escaped an exhausted sigh and they reflected the same sad feelings in their eyes. Seeing the evidence of her suffering so plainly before him made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"How are you?" the words escaped him in an almost whisper.

"I will cope."

He shook his head lightly. She was stubborn. It was obvious that she wasn't well.

"That's not what I asked."

They stood there for a while, eyes firmly locked with each other. Both of them not willing to give in. He knew she was strong, one of the strongest persons he had ever met, but he had always thought, that showing pain was its own kind of strength.

"I had wished my home could be a safe place for you," he declared in hope to push through to her.

"We both should have simply known better."

For a moment he thought that she would leave it at that but then her expression changed into something softer, and she spoke again.

" _I_ should have known better. I'm a queen. There will always be people wanting to kill me. But," she stopped and breathed in deeply, "I feel safe when I'm with you and there was so much going on today. I guess I got blinded by all of that."

He had wanted an honest answer but it still took him by surprise that she exposed her vulnerability in front of him. Without thinking about it, he outstretched a hand to touch a loose strand of her hair. He hadn't even noticed, that his feet had carried him closer. But the feeling of her silky hair on his skin abruptly brought him back to reality. His heart beat faster, and he needed to swallow hard. Just a few hours ago he had told himself to stay away from her, and here he was unable to do just that.

She watched him strained but hopeful. And all he wanted to do was kiss her and make her feel _safe_. But like a lost memory that suddenly broke through the surface again, the fact that they were related came to his mind and he stepped stiffly away from her. He had known about it for a day. But here he was, feeling as if this fact was already weighing him down for weeks.

"All these revelations. They distracted us both," he said and he forced himself to look at her, even though he saw the hurt about his sudden withdrawal on her face.

If _she_ had been distracted, _he_ had been too. That's what they had been today.

 _Distracted_.

Their emotions had got the better of them. And it had almost cost them a price too high to pay.

"Yes and we can't let it happen again," she agreed, all emotions washed away from her face. "You should really go now."

It pained him to see her like that. To do this to her. To him. To the two of them. But still, he went for the door.

When he reached the doorknob a thought crossed his mind.

"There's someone who will keep an eye on you, if you like," he said.

###

Not long after Jon returned to her chambers with Ghost at his side. The moment the two of them stepped around the corner, the expressions of Daenerys guards filled with unease. Jon had gotten so used to Ghost, that he sometimes forgot that his size was remarkable to other people, even scary to some. But they didn't even flinch when the wolf walked past them. Like their queen, they weren't easily scared. On the contrary, Dany's eyes widened in astonishment when they stepped into her room. She had washed her face and put on clean clothes. It calmed him seeing her like this again. There was no fear, not even reservation in her demeanor, just wondrousness. Of course the mother of dragons, Jon thought to himself, wouldn't be frightened by a creature like Ghost. Just intrigued at nature's diversity.

"This is Ghost," he introduced the wolf and Dany lifted her gaze from Ghost to him.

"He's beautiful," she told him quietly.

She was almost smiling at him and he realized how much he had missed to see her this way. She didn't do it often. Most of the times the heavy thoughts of a queen kept her from it. But because of it, a smile was all the more special when she shot it towards someone,a sense of pride taking hold of him whenever he could evoke one. After everything she had been through and risked for her people, she deserved a happy life.

Slowly, with respect in every move, she moved closer towards them until they both cowered before Ghost.

"This is Dany," Jon explained to the wolf. "You keep her safe for me, OK?"

It always amazed him that Ghost seemed to understand right away and he could read the answer in the animal's eyes.

"Hello Ghost," Dany spoke with a tenderness in her voice and for a moment the wolf just looked as if he examined the woman in front of him. Carefully, she lifted her hand and Jon waited agitated if the wolf would let her touch him. And he did. Slowly she began to stroke his fur and soon the wolf's eyes shut in enjoyment. Jon and Dany couldn't help themselves but smile even brighter at the wolf's reaction.

 _How would he ever be able to not love her?_ He asked himself when he gazed at her happy profile. It was just one more question on a day full of questions with no answers to be gained. She was still stroking Ghost's fur but he noticed the moment she realized him staring. Slowly she moved her head and let her gaze wander to him. He wanted to give her this moment of delight, to forget for a few seconds what happened tonight, what happened last night. But all he could think of when her eyes finally landed on his, was that she was so close and yet so far. He tried to hold onto his smile but it faded, - and hers with it. It was no good staying any longer.

"Good night, Dany," he almost whispered and stood up.

"Good night, Jon," she responded and watched him leave.

When he entered his chambers and closed the door behind him, he couldn't hold it together any longer. With his whole body, he sagged against it and started crying. About the father he had lost, the life he never knew of, the betrayals he hadn't seen coming and the queen who held his heart but shouldn't.

###

Dany turned around in her bed. She could still recall the feeling of her attacker's hands around her throat and the way Jon had touched her hair. They were two entirely different emotions but it didn't stop them from rotating inside of her. She wanted to push both of them aside, to get rid of all her thoughts and her emotions and be able to drift into a deep dreamless slumber. But her mind and her heart weren't so kind.

She felt weak. Weak for getting distracted. Weak for not being able to defeat her attacker. She was a queen and queens weren't weak. They were strong, sometimes scary creatures on whom the wellbeing of whole nations depended. _Weakness_. It was a feeling she hadn't been familiar with for a long time, and she hated it. She breathed in deeply and pulled the thick blanket closer around her shivering body. Ghost, who slept beside her bed seemed to notice her distress. Slowly the direwolf rose from the floor and climbed into the bed to lay down at Dany's feet. A nice warmth radiated from his huge body and she instantly felt better. If she wasn't able to sleep she should at least try to calm her inner uproar, she decided.

Of course, she knew, that she wasn't weak. On the contrary, she was a queen unlike anyone else. Strong and fierce. Willing to do anything for her beliefs. She came here to fight in a war, to rescue lives. And she would not let a man, no matter if he was an intruder or the one she loved, keep her from it. She tried to hold that thought but her body finally claimed that much-needed rest. Slowly she dozed off. Though not into a dreamless sleep, as she had wished, instead she dreamt of Jon and her and their fight beyond the wall. Of the moment, she had landed on Drogon and he had come running. It was a never-ending memory. She outstretched her hand and he wanted to grab it. Again and again. As if they would never stop reaching for each other.

###

Dawn was breaking and the people gathered in the big court within Winterfell walls. Whispers crossed through the masses. The rumor that the Dragon Queen had been attacked already spreading between the people. Jon waited patiently for Dany right in front of the door that led outside. He wanted to make sure that they walked out together, appearing as allies before the Northerners.

When he had finally laid in bed and the tears ebbed away, he had drifted into a deep sleep, his body and mind ultimately given into the exhaustion. And he felt better today. As if the crying and the sleep cleared his mind a little bit. And he would make sure that his people knew that he wouldn't take lightly what happened to Dany last night. His eyes fell onto the end of the floor.

The soldiers who had guarded Danys door during the night stepped around the corner, she following close behind. Jon felt kind of relieved that she appeared to be OK, even though the subtle circles around her eyes told him that she didn't get much sleep last night. And he wished he could have laid beside her the whole night and held her closely. To make sure she was OK, for her sake and for his. She was the most important woman in Westeros, the future of the country and he would never get over it if something would happen to her under his watch. The kingdom needed her and he needed her. He needed her as his ally, as his confidant and if he was to be honest, as something more than that.

They stopped a few meters away from him and she said something to her guards in high valyrian. He didn't understand one word but while she approached him, her guards fell behind and waited on the spot.

"Are you OK? You seem in thought."

"Just thinking about," _you_ , he almost said, "everything upon us."

She just nodded in understanding.

"Are you sure you want to stay here till more weapons are ready?" he asked her.

"We need the weapons, Jon, and I'm the only one who can get there faster than the rest."

"I don't like the idea to leave you here alone after everything that happened last night."

"I'm not alone. Some of my men will stay behind with me."

She stepped even closer and he smelled her lovely scent that he came so used to these last weeks. After the nights they had spent together he could still smell it on himself in the first hours of the day. When he stood at the rail watching the waves; when he laid in his bed reading; when he sat beside Davos at breakfast, and she at the end of the table meters away from him. In all these moments, he shouldn't have been able to still recognize her scent, but he did. It clung to him as if she marked him as hers in some way.

At this memory, his heart ached with longing. Everything inside him screamed to just bridge the gap between them and pull her at the waist until her body melted right into his. So that he could feel her warmth and her heartbeat synchronizing with his own, breath in her scent until his mind was clouded by it and kiss her like there's no tomorrow. Because by everything he knew it could be. But of course, he didn't do any of that. He just stood there trying to appear composed and hoping she didn't sense how much he fought with himself.

"And Ghost," she added and smiled at him, indicating that she knew how much Ghost meant to him and that she liked him too. "You have to go. And I have to stay for now."

He knew that she was right. It didn't matter what they both wanted or how they felt about their temporary separation. It was what they needed to do in order to save their people. So they'd do it. And in that moment he held just so much respect for her as a queen, who knew her duty and as a woman, who knew that, against all odds, she was strong enough to fulfill it.

"Aye," he agreed and bent down his head a little bit.

They both stood still for a few seconds, accepting what they didn't like and then he saw her feet moving. Soft but firm steps that brought her closer to him. He thought that he should move away because they shouldn't stand as close as that, but he couldn't bring himself to actually then it was too late, because he suddenly felt her hand on his cheek and he couldn't step away from it anymore, even if he had wanted to. Because it felt good, way too good.

 _It didn't feel forbidden, at all._

It felt familiar as if it was always supposed to be like that. Her and him. Together.

"I love you," she whispered. "I just want you to know. I love you."

He had waited so long to hear these words. Had known them long before they ever escaped her lips. They weren't a question, they were a certainty, and he knew his response to them. _I love you too._ But he couldn't say that out loud, could he?

###

They stepped on the wooden balcony from which everyone in the crowd could see them. Snow covered the ground even here, and they generated a dull creak with every step. At their sight, the conversations ebbed away immediately. Dany and Jon went forward to the balustrade, Tyrion behind them and the guards scattered and observed everything closely.

Jon's gaze wandered over the people, _his people_ and he asked himself who else would have followed Lord Stoneshed's order for Dany's death. Anger and sadness rose within him at the pure thought of that, but he tried to repress it. Dany's and his gazes crossed again for a short while and then she began to speak.

"Last night someone tried to murder me. As you can see he wasn't victorious." Her voice was crystal clear. Firm but not harsh and it captured the attention of everyone around her.

"I understand that you don't want me. From all you know I'm the daughter of a mad king and a southern conqueror. Someone who took your king from you and claimed your land to be hers." She took a large breath and her gaze drifted to Jon for a second.

"Jon told me about you, about the north. About the country and the people he loves so much." The sound of only his given name coming from her lips in front of all these people had something oddly intimate. As if she promised him in secret that he would never be just a title, a lord or even an ally for her. From now on, he would always and foremost be Jon to her. And with a sudden lump in his throat, he realized that she would always and foremost be Dany to him. No matter what he might try to tell himself.

"I'm aware I don't know you any better than you know me. But I want, - someday, to relate to all the things he told me. And I hope you can do that in return." Dany paused and when she spoke again her voice had changed abruptly.

"But to those people who judge me before they even know me. To those people who try to kill me even though they didn't know if I deserve death. To those cowards who attack me in the cover of the night and claim it to be for their king, even though he has chosen me as his queen. This is what will happen to you."

Jon nodded towards the far end of the court. Almost in unison, the heads of the audience turned. There, under a stone gate, stood Jorah and Arya with Lord Stoneshed in their arms. A few gasped in surprise, a few words were hushed but no one dared to do more. With firm steps, Jon walked down onto the frozen courtyard as Lord Stoneshed was brought to him. He could feel the agitated eyes of his people piercing him like tiny needles.

"Lord Stoneshed do you confess to conspiring against Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen and try to murder her last night through the hands of another man?" Jon asked his counterpart.

"I am," the other man said proudly with no sign of remorse in his demeanor.

"And you know what the penalty for a crime like that is?"

"I do," he answered again, still with pride. But Jon saw the sorrow hidden in his eyes. Lord Stoneshed knew what his death would mean to his family, what he would leave behind as soon as his head would hit the ground. A grieving widow and two adolescent boys without the guidance of their father. He would never see them grow into men, would never see the smile on his wife's face when they married. He would be gone and they would still be here.

Jon wished it wouldn't have to be that way. But he wished a lot of things nowadays and life had its way of showing him that in this netting of rulers and nations, of people and views, wishes often got caught and withered away. So he pushed his wish aside and spoke the words he needed to say.

"Lord Stoneshed, as Warden of the North I hereby sentence you to death."

The crowd was still quiet. The words almost entirely ebbed away. Everyone knew what was coming. It agitated them, but it was too fascinating to leave.

Lord Stoneshed knelt down in front of Jon. His knees sank into the soft snow beneath him. Slowly Jon drew Longclaw and the sword made a metallic sound. He remembered how it had felt to kill the conspirators at the wall. The heavy weight bearing down on him when he had hanged Olly. It had felt right and wrong all the same.

This wouldn't be as hard at what he had to do that day, but still, killing someone he trusted once, would never be easy nor should it.

He grabbed Longclaw tight with both hands and allowed himself a second of contemplation. Dany's bloodstained face appeared in his mind. He had almost lost her because of this man in front of him. At this moment he didn't think about Dany's role as a leader or what her death would have meant for the upcoming war. He just thought about her as the woman he loved. About the flame inside of her that deserved to burn brightly instead of being blown out quietly at night.

And then the second was gone and he was back in the court with hundred of watchful eyes upon him, and an aching in his chest he hadn't felt before. It was familiar to what he had felt when he had heard of Ned's, Rob's or Arya's deaths, related to the sorrow that hit him when Ygritte had died in his arms and it bared the same desperation he had when he had tried to reach Rickon before those deathly arrows. But still, it was something new entirely. _The shadow of the loss of a different kind of love._

He breathed in deeply and held even tighter onto Longclaw. Not knowing if he was the one holding the sword or the sword holding him.

And then he wielded it and stained the snow deep red.

###

A few drops of the Lord's blood found it's way onto Jon's face, making him look like a warrior. Daenerys knew he was one from head to toe, had seen it with her own eyes. But still. Blood just seemed out of place on his soft face.

' _We all enjoy what we are good at,_ ' her own voice echoed in her mind.

' _I don't_.'

Somehow it was clear to her, more than ever, that he belonged, -really belonged-, in a peaceful environment and not a battlefield no matter his talents.

Unconsciously, he ran his hand across his face, spreading the blood even more generously on it. She hated it. Hated to see the blood so plainly. Because it felt like she herself had put it there.

But there had been no other option.

' _Sometimes strength is terrible,_ ' she had told him once. And she felt the truth of that with every battle she fought, every life she took. It was a part of the world they lived in, especially as leaders. They had to kill Lord Stoneshed. She knew it and from the look on his face, he knew it too, even though he hated the fact.

"We have no time for quarrels like this," he finally said into the unbearable silence that followed the beheading. "We have to fight a war," he spat out, his voice laced with desperation and urgency. And the truth of his words hit her unexpectedly hard. Because, even she herself had been caught up on things, the last one lying dead in the snow. She needed to do better.

"And we have to fight it together, if we want to win", she added loud and firm, all eyes suddenly on her. She let go of the balustrade and walked down the steps to stand beside Jon. Some of her guards following her close by. "We saw the Night King and his army. We know what he can do. Let us not be the reason for our own downfall. Let us work together against our common enemy. Jon puts his faith in you. I put my faith in you."

"If we get distracted by things like this, we _will_ fail. _We will die._ " Jon stated. "What matters is this war. Is our survival. We will fight for you, for your children, for us all."

"The question is, will you fight with us or against us?"

In all her life, Daenerys got used to speaking in front of a crowd, to tell difficult truths or motivate people. It was something she never had learned, but that came naturally to her. And to her surprise, it still felt natural doing it together with Jon.

###

Jon breathed in deeply and closed his eyes. He would never forget the way his room smelled. Of wood and ash and snow. And also of childhood and family and safety. For a long time, it had also smelled like _home_ but now he understood the difference between to feel _at_ home somewhere and _be_ home.

He would always feel at home in Winterfell but his home could never be a place. It would always be the people he cared about. His siblings, the friends he had made along the way and the queen he had met at Dragonstone.

This morning had been exhausting but it had also taught him something.

Dany was his home now.

The night on the ship, when he had knocked on her door and she had let him into her room, he not only crossed a threshold. He left all the years of abuse through his stepmother, the whispers of people about his parentage and all the doubts about where he belonged behind. He had closed the door and was finally where he was supposed to be all along. _Home_.

And even though there were new doubts now about his heritage and his real name, Dany was still his home. As if you could never forget it, once you'd found it.

And he liked that thought, more than he cared to admit.

He breathed out heavily and opened his eyes again. Careful, he let his eyes wander across the room. Over the items and corners that held hundred of memories. A small smile appeared on his face. He had had a good life here. But now it was time to leave this place, and who knew if he would ever return.

The chest with the things he needed for their journey and the war had already been brought downstairs. All he needed to do now was to take his heavy coat, put it on and leave. But there it was again, a wish. A wish for more time here at Winterfell. A week or even just a day more with his siblings at this place, to cherish their bond and these stones and be ready to really let it go. But again, the wish got caught and needed to wither away. Because it was nothing but luxury in this fight for survival against the Night King.

When he finally arrived outside, Sansa and Bran were already waiting for him. They would stay within the safe walls of Winterfell and help them from afar. He had just returned and now he needed to leave again. But whereas the last time Sansa hated to see him go and had tried to stop him, she now just hugged him tightly. The worry about his survival evident in her eyes, but she seemed to understand now that his duty outreached the borders of the North.

"Be careful, Jon", she said to him and held onto him a little tighter.

He sealed the words into his memory. For one day in battle, he surely would need to hear them again.

When they separated he crouched down before Bran and wished him farewell.

"Goodbye, Jon", his brother answered. For a second Jon mused if Bran wanted to be hugged or if it even mattered to him at all. But then he just did it. Simply because it could be their last meeting.

###

Dany was waiting for him in the snow-covered land surrounding the castle. She was standing atop a huge rock facing her armies. Jon knew the rock for as long as he could think. In his youth, he often played on top of it with his brother Robb, and as they got older they could sit on it for hours, their legs dangling at the side, and did nothing but talk. Jon missed him ever since their paths separated, even more so when he had heard of his passing. But being back at Winterfell always made him miss his older brother the most. Some days it was hard to believe he would never see him again. Even though there was a hollow spot inside his heart that told him otherwise. And wasn't this pain also proof enough that Robb had been and would always be his brother, no matter his parentage?

It was the same with Arya and the others. The night Bran had told him, that he was a Targaryen he had thought his whole world was crashing down. But was it? He never once questioned if Arya and Sansa were still his sisters. Never asked himself if Bran was still his brother. He wasn't asking because he already knew the answer. His siblings were his siblings, no matter their or his blood. He caught himself getting lost in thoughts and memories, and tried to focus on Dany instead.

She was shouting something in high valyrian to her men. Jon didn't understand a word but he didn't need to. It was obvious that they were words of encouragement that matched the determined but also graceful expression on her face. In her white winter coat, she almost blended into the white background but somehow that made her an even more impressive sight. She looked like an ice-queen. Like a northern queen.

 _Like his queen._

When she finished her speech the thousands of men broke into a loud and animalistic cheer. There was no doubt left that they were battle-ready. And for a second Jon thought, that they had a real chance at winning this war.

As if she could read his thoughts she turned around to him with a content expression on her face. It always amazed him with how much assurance Dany faced this fight ahead of them. She believed in herself, in her men and him. Her believe alone made them all stronger.

She outstretched her hand to him, to help him get on the rock and he took it, climbing on top of it in one swift motion. At her touch, his skin tingled and he realized how much he missed the feel of her. It reminded him of the way he missed Robb and how the feeling itself showed him that it didn't matter if they were brothers by blood or not.

So, in conclusion, did it really matter that Dany and he shared the same blood if it felt so right to touch her?

Unsure about the answer he let go immediately and faced the crowd instead. The fevered voices of Dany's men ebbed away, instead, they eyed the Northern lord curiously. Jon's own men had also gathered at the left side of the area, eying him expectedly. It was obvious that everyone wanted him to say something. But what else was there left to say that he hadn't said already? It was war, they needed to win. That was it.

"We're at war!", he shouted into the land. "Not just any war. If we fail, we not just die. Everyone will die! Or worse, become a lifeless body for the Night King's army." He stopped himself and looked at all the faces directed at Dany and him. Some feisty, some sorrowful. And some hopeful, as if the two of them had the answers to all their worries.

But in reality, he didn't have one.

"But you all already knew this," he went on, his voice a little bit hoarse. "You know what's at stake."

All he could give them was his sword, his courage and his determination to defeat the Night King. All he could give them was hope. And maybe that was enough.

"I don't know how this will end but I know this. If we can overcome our origins and fight together against the Night King. We've already won a war. So who's to say we can't win another one?" It had become quiet during his speech. So quiet that Jon could hear his own blood pulsating in his ears. "Let us fight," his voice grew louder again. "With all that we've got." And then there was only one word left to say and he put all his strength into it. To bellow it out like a battle cry.

"Together!"

Dany stepped closer beside him.

"Together!", she firmly repeated the word.

And it didn't take long for the crowd to answer with the same word. Maybe not all of them. But it was a start, Jon thought.

###

It was midday when they were finally ready to march. The sun stood high in the sky. But Jon found that even the sun, was getting weaker each day. As if the looming darkness wasn't just an expression for the danger ahead of them but also something palpable.

"We are ready, my Lord.", Davos said beside him and Jon turned his eyes away from the sky. He nodded in understanding and walked up to their horses, were Arya was already waiting on hers. She shot him a content look as if she was ready for some action.

But first, there was one goodbye left.

Dany.

She was standing in front of his horse, as if she demanded a proper farewell by him. He had already said so many goodbyes today. But this one was the one he dreaded the most. Not because he was worried about her safety, he was, but he accepted her decision to stay. The reason he didn't want to say goodbye was that he didn't know how. Not anymore. Not now that everything had changed.

He walked up to her and tried to appear calm. But he felt like he was burning under her gaze. In his head, he recalled their first goodbye at Dragonstone. How nervous he had been then to bid her goodbye. The queen who suddenly awoken his heart again. He had thought she would say something dispensable. A quick goodbye and nothing more but instead she had said: _I've grown used to him._

All the way to Eastwatch these sentence echoed through his head.

 _I've grown used to him._

It was something big to say to a King, who had refused to bend the knee. It was still reserved because she had spoken of him in the third person, and yet it contained some sort of familiarity, a connection even.

 _I've grown used to him._

Used to _you_.

It was the first time he hadn't been able to shake off the feeling that something was brewing between them. And he had felt her absence way too much afterward to tell himself any longer that she was just an ally for him.

Jon knew he would feel her absence this time too. Even if it would be just for a few days. If he was to be honest, he already felt it since the moment Bran declared him a Targaryen. And it hurt even more than the first time. Because now he knew how it felt to have her. To be with her. To love her. To suddenly stop it felt unnatural.

Nevertheless, he knew what he had to do. So he stopped in front of Dany and faced her. He allowed himself this much, to save away the image of how she looked at him. She only ever looked at him this way.

"We will see each other in a few days," she promised him.

"We will," he reassured her and it was obvious that there was so much more to say. So many questions hung in the air between them, that had to stay unanswered. And here it was again.

A wish.

As impossible as ever, Jon wished he could pull her into his arms and just hold her. To make her feel how much it displeased him to leave her behind. How proud he was of her that she stayed anyway. And how much she meant to him.

Just a few days ago he simply would have kissed her. A kiss that would've told her wordlessly everything he needed her to know. Onlookers be damned.

But he couldn't do that anymore.

So he just stood there and regarded her with eyes that displayed his inner turmoil, unable to say or do more.

"Goodbye, Jon," she was the first to say something. And he was glad that she didn't prolong the inevitable, but somehow he wasn't ready for it.

"Goodbye, Dany," he replied with a husky voice.

And then he got on his horse and gave the order to march. When the thousands of men were already in motion he turned his head around one last time.

She was standing, where he left her. Tyrion and Jorah behind her, her dragons visible in the far distance. And she, the bright queen at the forefront, with her hair and coat as white as the snow surrounding them.

As Jon had expected her eyes were firmly set on him.

One last look and then he grabbed the reins of his horse tighter and rode away with Arya and Davos at his side. The two of them chatted away immediately as if they had been good friends for years. But Jon didn't figure out what they were talking about. His mind always drifted back to Dany, who he could still feel behind his back. It felt wrong, - _so wrong_ , to leave her like this. Without a touch, with just a few words, that could've been exchanged between acquaintances and all this undealt uncertainty between them.

Especially because deep down he knew that there was no uncertainty.

 _He loved her_. Without a doubt.

"Together," the word rumbled through his ears. It came from a soldier who Jon was passing by.

 _Together_. The simple word was like a stone which triggered a landslide of thoughts in Jon's head.

All these different people came together to fight a common enemy, because of Daenerys and him. He had set off to Dragonstone despite everyone telling him it was foolish. And now the queen was their strongest ally. He befriended the Wildings despite everyone telling him they were the enemy. And now they were his loyal soldiers and friends. He had laid with a Wildling Woman despite his Nightwatch-Oath. And learned what it meant to love someone with his heart and his flesh.

Since when did he care what society demanded? He never followed their rules anyway. He always did what _he_ thought to be right, not everyone else. Listening to his gut and his heart instead of all the voices around him.

 _So why start now, when he knew that his heart told him something else?_

Why should it matter that Dany and he shared the same blood if it didn't matter that his siblings and he didn't any longer? Being their brother was etched deep into his being and so was the love for the woman he was leaving behind.

 _To love Dany felt right, not wrong._

The second this thought crossed his mind he knew that he had the answer. In one abrupt motion, he stopped his horse and turned around. Not noticing the confused looks on Arya's and Davos faces. He rode by the marching armies. Faster and faster. To get where he needed to be. To make things right.

When he arrived before her, she was standing there unmoving but her breath, visible as small misty clouds in the icy air, was shaking and she looked up to him with troubled eyes. As if she had an idea what brought him back here but didn't dare to hope.

The reins of the harness cut painfully through his gloves but Jon didn't really notice. Instead, he concentrated on his rapid beating heart, that told him, that he never could've decided against her. He was hers, the moment he had stepped through the cabin door on the ship north.

In one swift motion, Jon got off his horse. He didn't give her time to process or say something. He just walked straight up to Dany and kissed her.

His lips on hers, one hand buried in her long hair, the other on her hips, he forgot all doubts. He just felt that this was right. That this was love.

That this was home.

Like he had wished before he put everything he needed her to know in this kiss and he realized that she did the same. So many questions finally answered with one simple kiss.

He could hear the noise of the soldiers marching behind his back, the groan of the loaded wagons, the nicker of the horses. Everything around them was still moving and yet it seemed as if the world with all its burdens stood still for this small moment between them.

"I love you too," he confessed out of breath.

She just smiled and then he climbed back up on his horse and rode away again. This time he didn't glance back. He didn't need to. Jon knew exactly what was behind him.

* * *

 **Some of you might've noticed while reading, that english isn't my first language. I'm still in search for a beta reader. So if someone wants to be my beta reader for the following chapters just DM me :-)**


	5. Arrivals

**Thank you so much much for your nice comments on the last chapter. I'm so happy you're enjoying this story!**

 **Here's a new chapter. Off we go!**

* * *

They arrived at Long Lake a few hours ago, the army and people of Last Hearth already waiting for them and made camp as fast as they could. They were aware that time wasn't on their side. The Undead were only a few days away, and the upcoming battle needed to be prepared as quickly and effectively as could be.

He was standing at a large table, it's surface covered by an equally large map, with Davos, Grey Worm, Arya, Brienne and some other soldiers at his side. It all came down to the figures positioned like toys, Jon mused. It was an illustrated battle plan similar to a children's game, with the difference that there would be no starting over once you lost. There would be no rerun, no second chances. Not even the peaceful finiteness that came with death. Jon cringed at the thought of that. He could end up in the army of the Undead and not even know it. He could march up to Winterfell and kill his people with no regret. He could turn into the one thing he sought out do destroy so hard. Into a monster that must be stopped. Into the very thing he hated.

 _So their plan better be good._

"Our first line of defense will be the bonfires. They will provide us with enough light, should the Undead attack at night," Jon stated, pointing at the small wooden rings on the map.

"The second line will be these palisades," his hand wandered over the map to an area that was covered with small palisades in the form of arrowheads. "Between the palisades will be enough space for the Dothraki to charge into and out of the fray. They'll weaken the enemy with short attacks but not stay long enough to get overrun."

"The men already working on them, my Lord," Grey Worm added and Jon looked at him with approval. He hadn't had much time with the Queen's trusted leader of the Unsullied till now, but he understood why Dany held him in such high regard. He was a good, loyal man with a sharp mind. Someone badly needed in the Great War.

"The space between the palisades will also incorporate a line of trenches," Jon explained further, but right at this moment, another soldier stepped through the entrance of the tent.

He was young, not older than eighteen. A kind of innocence still visible in his eyes.

"My lord," he addressed Jon out of breath. "There is someone or something nearing our camp."

Within a second Jon was on high alert. Could it be the Undead already? Did they miscalculate the speed with which they traveled this badly? A feeling of doom settled over him. They wouldn't stand a chance in a fight against the army of wights right now. Not without proper preparations.

"How many? How far away?" he asked, his voice laced with trouble.

"Five or six. Very near. They weren't spotted by scouts, my Lord. They were spotted by soldiers right at the camp outline." The boy almost swallowed his words.

Jon started running immediately. Agitated he tried to reach the end of the camp as fast as he could. His right hand twitched to grab Longclaw and draw it. But it would do no good and only cost him time. _Time_. The one luxury they didn't have. Jon had been aware, that time wasn't on their side the day he saw the Night King and realized his plan. If he was to die here at Long Lake he just hoped that he would see Dany once again. Even if it was just for a moment. Even if they just locked eyes through the sky for a few seconds, as they did beyond the wall. It would be alright to die if only she was the image he could take along to his cold grave. It would make it easier knowing, she and her dragons were here. Ready to help their men. It would make it possible for him to die with hope, not desperation.

He finally reached the end. The soldiers guarding it already in defense. Without a warning, he squeezed through them and stopped.

Before him laid nothing but bright white snow. After snowing incessantly for days, the sight was clear, which made it easy for him to spot the tiny group drawing nearer. A gasp of relief escaped his mouth.

These were no wights; he could see it in the way their bodies moved through the snow. Jon couldn't make out what exactly distinguished the undead from living people. They were just different. _Unnatural_.

Dany's face crossed his mind anew. It wouldn't be right to die at Long Lake. Not now, when he fully realized what he wanted. He wanted her. A whole life at her side. Not in secrecy but out in the open. _Together_ , as husband and wife.

Jon swallowed hard and swore to himself, that he would do anything to survive and get a chance at this life. As soon as he promised himself this, one of the distant figures started to run towards him. All of a sudden, he was on high alert again. But then he recognized the red hair and beard racing like a wild flame through the snow and he couldn't help but smirk. Only one person in the world would sprint at him in such a comical way.

Tormund.

###

The throne was ugly. A sharp and colorless _thing_ which looked anything but comfortable. As Daenerys was standing right before it, she knew she would never sit on it.

"Dany," a familiar voice behind her gained her attention. Her nickname spoken like a caress, so unlike the way her brother had always pronounced it.

She turned around to Jon, who stood a few steps behind her, shooting her a cheerful half-smile.

"It's time to go," he told her and reached out a hand for her to take. But she didn't. She gazed back at the iron throne, standing there abandoned, waiting for a new queen or king to claim it.

"The throne," she said, not as a statement but neither a question. As if the throne itself was stuck at an in-between.

"It's not yours," Jon told her, his hand still outstretched.

At his words, she felt a pang in her chest. A sadness from deep within that swallowed her truth and spit out a new one. A new truth.

"You're right," she agreed and in her voice was no anger just acceptance.

So she took his hand and walked away.

Dany awakened right away and sat up. Abstractedly she laid a hand on her chest and felt the rapid pounding of her heart underneath her fingertips. The dream had not been brutal or thrilling, it had been quiet and calm and yet the message it sent caused an uproar inside of her.

 _It's not yours._

It was this sentence that she couldn't shake off until a sudden warmth at her feet abstracted her and calmed her instantly. Ghost, she thought instead and outreached a hand to pet the direwolf. Since the night Jon introduced them he had slept at the end of her bed. He was a remarkable animal, not just in looks and strength but also in cleverness. He always seemed to know when she needed a soothing presence and followed her all around Winterfell, making her feel safe in this place full of strangers.

Since the execution of Lord Stoneshed, the northerners appeared to be more civil towards her. Although, she was aware that it was due to fear and not admiration. And she hated it.

 _"They will see you for what you are."_

Jon had said to her all these weeks ago, but she guessed it would still be a long road up to this point. It was obvious that they wouldn't choose her as their queen if they had a choice, but she would be a good queen to them regardless. The throne was hers. She just _knew_ it. So why had she abandoned it so easily in her dream? And why had Jon been the figure to lure her away? He would never do that. Would never ask this of her. She was his queen. He had told her again and again.

 _"How about my queen?"_

His words, forever etched into her memory. _My queen_. In all her life many people had addressed her with this title, though it had never held so much weight as coming from Jon's lips. Even though they had not been lovers back then they both had known that this confession had not just been a political stand. It had been more. It had never been just about politics between them.

Ghost purred underneath her gentle touch.

"You miss him too, do you?" she asked him quietly and looked at the other side of the bed. It was untouched, empty. She had never lain with Jon in this bed. Nevertheless, she wished he would be here. To tell him about her dream, to call her _my queen_ once more and kiss all shadows of the night away. All the tension that had accompanied them the last days before his departure were gone and confidence grew in its place. He had kissed her in front of others and told her that he loved her. She hadn't known how much she longed to hear those words until he finally said them.

But now he was hundreds of miles away, marching to the battlefield. Who knew if everything was going according to plan? Dany just hoped that they hadn't clashed with the Undead yet and everyone was still safe. Not long now and they would have enough weapons, and then she could catch up to them. It had been right to stay at Winterfell, but with every passing day she grew more agitated. She needed to go. She wanted to help them directly.

But every time the wait seemed to be unbearable she remembered Jon's last words to her.

 _"I love you."_

And she loved him.

She was glad to learn that in this time of war there were things as simple at that.

###

Sansa sat at the breakfast table, already reading over a paper that compiled their current provisions. A lot of their food had traveled north with their army, but she had learned how to manage a castle and hungry men and she was willed that it stayed this way. She was glad that Winterfell provided her with enough distractions, so she didn't have much time to ponder what went on at Long Lake. The dragonglass weapons were almost ready and she was glad when Daenerys would eventually leave. Not that she wished for the queen to go. It was actually kind of pleasant to have new feminine company in these walls. Albeit, she would sleep better knowing that all her men and her siblings were equipped with enough weapons that could kill the Undead.

On her arrival, she had been determined to dislike the queen, even though she had been aware that they needed her help. But Jon had bent the knee. He had given her the North without consulting her.

 _She could never like this woman!_

Or so she thought. The first two days she had tried to appear polite towards Daenerys, but keep her distance. To scorn her from afar, because it was impossible to show her true feelings when their survival depended on her, her dragons and her armies.

But now, several days later, she had dismissed her endeavor altogether. Because Daenerys Targaryen was just and kind. Sansa had found out that the queen had assured her support against the Night King and his army even before Jon had bent the knee.

What kind of ruler would do that?

To help an independent kingdom in a war? Daenerys had allowed the King in the North to mine the dragonglass. She had sent one of her most trusted advisers with Jon beyond the wall. Had even flown there herself to save everyone and agreed to postpone her war against Cersei. As much as Sansa had intended to hate her, all these facts had quickly made it impossible.

 _What kind of ruler would do all these things?_

A good one, who actually wanted to help people.

As if on clue, Daenerys stepped into the room. Ghost, as usual since Jon's departure, was loyal at her side. As were the two guards behind her, who took their positions at the door.

"Good morning, your grace," Sansa saw up from her provisions and greeted her. The title rolling easily of her tongue.

"Good morning Lady Sansa," Daenerys responded equally formal and sat down.

"A raven arrived."

Without further explanations, Sansa handed Daenerys a small roll. The queen grabbed it and carefully opened it, as if she feared the message that might be written down. Sansa understood her all too well. Roll's could contain messages that put your whole life into an uproar. She had discovered it herself. And before her sat the queen, who longed for joining her army and fight the Night King. She didn't know Daenerys well but she knew this much: The queen would never get over it if she came too late and Long Lake was lost.

"So, everything is going according to plan," she said relieved.

"For now." Sansa agreed half-heartedly, and the queen shot her an irritated look. Sansa wished she could be as confident as her in their victory. There was just so much uncertainty, and she had seen with her own eyes how quickly the tables could turn. "I'm cautious. That is all," she added, almost expecting Daenerys would give her a long explanation on why they would win.

Instead, the queen surprised her again. "In this world you better be. I had to learn that the hard way."

And Sansa understood all too well, what the queen meant. There was a familiarity in her eyes as if they had seen similar horrors as hers.

"But it made me believe in myself." Slowly she grabbed Sansa's hand and squeezed it. "And I believe in your brother. I believe in us, that we can win this war, together."

There was this word again. Together. It was as if this was the guiding theme of this war. For so long Sansa had longed for the North to be independent, it was hard for her to fully embrace the word and what it stood for. Yet, in the queen's face, she discovered the unyielding faith in it. The same way she had detected it in Jon's whenever he uttered the word in these last days. Sansa asked herself if these two realized how much they already embodied the theme. They sought out each other's council, made important decisions together and appeared as a unit in front of their people. Some may say this war had two leaders: The southern queen and the northern lord. But to Sansa, it appeared more as if this war had only one: The united front of Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen.

"He believes the same thing, you know?" Sansa told her, squeezing her hand back. And the queen just smiled slightly and answered:

"I know."

###

Jamie Lannister could make out Winterfell from afar. The castle itself hadn't changed much with time. It was still as grey and firm as the stones that built it. It's surroundings, however, were nothing alike. Winter has set the castle in a sea of snow, and there was nothing nearby that could've added some color to the scenery. There was white and there was grey and that was very much all of it.

In his mind, he recalled his last visit and what he did to the boy, who sneaked up to Cersei and him. The consequences of his actions of that day still hunted him. When he had pushed Bran Stark from the tower, he had wanted to protect Cersei and his secret. It was all that crossed his mind; not one thought wasted on the boy or his parents. He had changed since then. He knew now how much it hurt to lose a part of you, to lose a child. Now, he fully comprehended what he had done that day to Bran Stark and his parents. The knowledge didn't make it any easier for him to ride down there into the mouth of the wolf.

Slowly he goaded his horse towards the entrance, but was stopped by a Dothraki he had not seen coming.

"Who are you and what do you want?" the dark-skinned man asked him with his sword firmly in his hand.

"My name is Jamie Lannister. My brother Tyrion Lannister is the Hand of the Queen to Danaerys Targaryen. I'm here to join in the fight against the Undead."

The soldier examined him as if his name was familiar to him, but he didn't quite know where to put it. Nervously, Jamie waited for his decision on what to do with him.

"Get off the horse, I will bring you to the queen," he ordered after what felt like an eternity.

Some minutes later he was brought to the front gate where a visibly discomposed Tyrion was awaiting him. The sight of his little brother caught Jamie off guard. Of course he had known that Tyrion would be here, but Winterfell was the heart of the Starks; he hadn't expected to be greeted by his brother at entry. When they had met in Kings Landing weeks ago, they had been on opposite sides of the war. Yet, no matter how much life tried to push them apart, the two brothers could never truly be against each other.

"This man tried to sneak into Winterfell," the soldier said to Tyrion.

"I did not sneak…" Jamie tried to defend himself but was cut short from his little brother.

"I will take care of him."

Tyrion's face was a mask. The face of the Hand of the Queen. _He didn't actually think that he tried to sneak into Winterfell, did he?_ Jamie asked himself. He was here to do the right thing, dammit!

"I didn't try to sneak into Winterfell," he clarified when Tyrion led him over the castle grounds towards a hall. It was empty, but a cozy fire was burning at the hearth. After the long, cold days on the Kingsroad, the pleasant warmth drew him nearer.

When the door shut behind him, his little brother stopped instantly. "I know you didn't try to sneak into Winterfell. Only a fool would try to sneak in when he's an ally, who could use the front gate."

Gone was the mask he had been wearing a second ago. Instead, the little brother he loved was staring at him through well-known eyes.

"I know you are a fool, but not that big of a fool. At least I hope so. So why are you here?" Tyrion finished.

"I promised to help in the fight against the Undead." As soon as these words left Jamie's mouth, he felt stupid. He should have started with Cersei's deception, but it still felt like a betrayal to expose her plan. Even in front of their brother.

"We sent you a raven to meet us further north at Long Lake."

Tyrion eyed him curiously and Jamie could do nothing more than stare back at him. He couldn't bring himself to reveal the truth, but it must have been written on his face because the curiosity in Tyrion's eyes made way for sadness.

"Her armies aren't coming, are they?" Tyrion asked crestfallen.

And at that moment, Jamie's heart broke for his little brother who, against better judgment, had still loved their sister enough to believe her one last time. It was as if he could see his own heartbreak in his brothers face. He too had wanted to believe in Cersei. Had followed her every wish for years, as if he had been spellbound, only to be faced with the uncomfortable truth: Cersei Lannister was no good person.

Jamie had known that, had known it for a long time. And it had been easy to dismiss it, when he himself hadn't desired to be good either. But then he had been captured by the Starks, had met Brienne and something within him had changed. He had wanted to be a better man, and even now he was still learning how to be one.

Although, he would never reach that goal with Cersei casting him down, again and again. He had to let her go for good.

"No, she never planned on sending them," he finally found the courage to speak the truth out loud. "As she said in the Dragonpit, she wants to deal with whatever is left of you. Euron Greyjoy didn't sail back to the Iron Islands, but to Essos to bring her the Golden Company. If your queen survives this, Cersei will come for her."

Jamie waited for his brother to say something. Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow, and Tyrion. All three of them had counted on the support of Cersei's armies, and she tricked them all. The Undead were approaching and they had thousands of men less to fight them.

Tyrion looked at him intently.

"And why are you here?" he asked, voice clear.

And Jamie gave his answer right away.

"I gave my word to fight the Undead. I intend on keeping it."

###

Daenerys entered the Great Hall with firm steps. Due to the upcoming battle at Long Lake, the crowd was visibly thinned out. But those eyes that remained were on her and she could still see the distrust in most of them.

She walked over to the long table in front of the fireplace, Sansa and Bran already waiting for her, and sat down. For a second her eyes grazed the vacant chair to her left side. Jon's chair.

Somehow it felt strange to hold court at Winterfell without him. Even if he had bent the knee, making it her court now.

"Jamie Lannister," she addressed the man in front of her.

She had faced him before. On the battlefield near Highgarden, but she had only caught a glimpse of him then and in the Dragonpit weeks ago, where she had been able to examine the man who killed her father at long last. In her imagination, he had always looked harsher, a man with angular facial features, less boyish as the one standing right before her.

"Kingslayer," she added sharply, the whole room tensing in turn. His whole body stiffened at hearing his moniker. It was obvious that he didn't like it, but it fitted his actions perfectly, Daenerys thought.

When they had settled their truce she had been aware that they would see each other again soon. Nevertheless, some part of her wished she could just ignore it and put down the queen and her devoted brother for good. To end the reign of Cersei Lannister once and for all.

"Why are you here? And where is the army your sister promised?" Her face remained composed, almost friendly, yet her words were laced with a coldness that didn't allow misunderstanding of their meaning.

 _I know of your betrayal._

Daenerys wasn't aware of the specifics; all Tyrion had told her was that his brother was here and he didn't bear good news. She didn't have to be a mastermind, however, to figure out that Cersei had deceived them in some form or another.

Tyrion's brother looked at her with unease written all over his face. He took his time to answer her as if it wasn't easy for him to find the right words. And she just sat there, staring him down.

"My sister will send no army," he spoke and Daenerys noticed a sadness in his voice that surprised her. "She never intended to keep the promise she gave at the Dragonpit, in front of you and me." It was as if he himself was let down by the actions of his sister. "As we speak Euron Greyjoy sails to Kings Landing with the Golden Company at his back. They will increase her forces. Ready to fight you, if we survive the Undead."

It took all of Dany's willpower to didn't show how much this news affected her. Forcefully, her fingers encompassed the armrest to let some of her anger go. She was a fool to believe in the words of Cersei Lannister, and Tyrion was a fool too for not seeing through her charade!

Beside her, she recognized Sansa observing her. Just yesterday Jon's sister had warned her to not trust Cersei. She had voiced Dany's own doubts so well, but still she had wanted to believe in the truce, to believe that something as big as the survival of mankind would be something even the self-serving Cersei Lannister couldn't ignore.

Oh, how wrong she was.

"And you came here all the way to deceive your sister? You, her beloved brother who stood so loyal at her side, through everything she's done."

It sounded absurd that he, of all people, should be the one turning against Cersei. She had heard the rumors surrounding him. He loved his sister. Loved her in more ways than Lannisters usually do. Cersei had done terrible things in her life and Jamie had loved her through all of it. So why should this be the one thing that would suddenly bring him to turn on her? She lied about sending armies. It was a lie, nothing more.

"I gave my word to fight in the upcoming war against the Undead. I want to keep that word if you let me."

He kept his face straight and his words steady. If she didn't know his name, didn't know about his past, Daenerys might have believed that he actually meant it. But she would not make the mistake of believing one of Tyrion's treacherous siblings again.

"Even if it cost you the trust of your sister?" she asked him. Her voice like dancing waves in the ocean, - smooth but deadly.

Though he had kept his gaze upon her throughout the conversation, it was the first time Daenerys felt Jamie Lannister _actually_ looking at her.

"Yes, even that," he answered right away. It wasn't a passionate declaration of loyalty towards the Queen he was talking to. It was more of a bitter truth he was facing himself.

For a moment, Dany was unsure how to react to this bare-nakedness of emotions from him. Was he playing her? Had his sister sent him to spy on her? How could she trust any of it?

She wanted to say something, but what would be the proper response to a sentence that evoked so many questions in her? Carefully, she studied his eyes and tried to find the truth in them.

Jamie Lannister didn't shy away. "My sister doesn't care about the people," he told her. "She sits protected in her castle while others fight her battles. I saw you, riding your dragon into battle. Willing to risk everything for the well-being of your people. You even postponed ascending the Iron Throne to fight for what's right. It is obvious who is the true queen of this kingdom."

Her eyes wandered over to Tyrion and he reflected her gaze with the same astonishment.

"I know I killed your father, and you have no reason to trust me. But you saw something good in my brother and made him your Hand. Which proves that the blood of your enemy doesn't have to be your enemy. You let actions speak. All I'm asking for is a chance to do that -," he stopped there and it seemed as if the whole room waited agitatedly of what's to come.

And then he moved and Dany herself needed to hold back a gasp of surprise, because Jamie Lannister got down to his knee and spoke the two words she never expected to hear from him, "my queen."

Whereas all eyes had been on him a second ago, they were now on her, awaiting her response. Jamie Lannister took her by surprise.

 _He bent the knee._

It put everyone, herself included, into a mild shock. She was well aware that she needed to say something, to accept his oath or not, but could she accept Jamie Lannister in her ranks? Would it be right or wrong of her to do so? Then her eyes fell on the vacant chair beside her, and Jon's voice resonated from a memory deep within her.

" _Because right now, you and I and Cersei and everyone else, we're children playing a game, screaming that the rules aren't fair. The army of the dead is real, the white walkers are real, the Night King is real, I've seen them. If they get past the wall and we're squabbling amongst ourselves. We're finished."_

Was it not this squabbling, how Jon had put it, that nearly cost her her life just days ago? Wouldn't she nourish it even further to hold Jamie Lannister captive or send him away? Especially given that they needed every experienced swordsman they could get?

"You stabbed my father in the back," she finally found the words, seeing the fear creeping into Jamie Lannister's face, "What you did wasn't right. To kill the king like a wild animal, without a trial, to murder his children and grandchildren. It was wrong." She had to say this out loud at least once. "But my father was a madman, who was unfit to rule. He needed to be stopped. I will give you a chance to prove yourself. You can fight in the upcoming battle. But one misstep and I will not be this kind again. Do you understand?"

A relieved breath escaped his mouth, but he didn't say more. He just nodded in understanding. Dany just hoped that she didn't make a huge mistake.

###

The door slammed shut behind Tyrion. It was a loud and rousing noise that matched the furiousness on the queen's face.

"You should have seen this coming!" she yelled as he stood there, already awaiting her anger. He knew it was coming the moment Jamie had told him about Cersei's lie and some part of him welcomed her scolding. He would've done so himself if it would be possible to scream at your own face.

The room they had entered was some kind of conference room. Big enough for discussions between leaders and advisers, but small enough to create a haimish atmosphere. Like every other chamber at Winterfell, the fireplace was lit to ease some of the cold starting to settle down for good in their bones nowadays. There was much to discuss after Jamie's statement, wherefore Sansa, Jorah and some others accompanied them here, making the argument between the queen and her hand everything else than private.

"She is your sister. You know her. You should have known better."

The furiousness that laced Daenerys words was nothing compared to the disappointment in her eyes, and it hit Tyrion hard. She was right. He should've seen this coming. Instead, he trusted Cersei once again. All too eager to see the good in her, and she had spotted this weakness and molded it into a deadly trap. They had counted on the aid from the south, had planned with the additional soldiers in the war against the dead. Soldiers that they will now wait for in vain, which lead to the conclusion that -

No, he didn't want to follow that thought through. In an attempt to escape it, he looked at the others. But their troubled eyes made it impossible for him to stop the dreadful conclusion.

He needed to swallow hard. People would die. A lot of people would die. Because he trusted his sister.

 _People would die because of him._

"I should have," he agreed, the devastation ultimately sinking in, making his voice low.

"I should have seen this coming. I thought I could detect a lie out of her mouth but I see now, that I let my judgment be clouded by my blood."

Blood, that ran like a curse through his body. This tiny body that he had, oftentimes, wished to discard like a worn-out cloak, because it had brought him nothing but rejection and pain. A disfigured shell, he couldn't escape. Kept alive by his blood.

 _Lannister blood_ , running through him in a never-ending circle. Always reminding him of a father that had wished him dead and a sister that despised him. And yet, some part he kept hidden deep inside of him since his childhood longed for Cersei's respect.

Something he would never get.

Of this, he was sure now. To her, he would always be the one brother she didn't want, and he would be stupid to keep believing in her redemption. They all had done terrible things, but she had passed the point of no return a long time ago. She was a monster. Not like the ones in children tales. An even scarier one. A _real_ one. He needed to let her go, this time for good.

 _He needed to let her go and die._

"You did," he unexpectedly heard Daenerys voice beside him. He had been so lost in his trail of thoughts, he didn't even realize that she had walked up to him. "I had hoped your shared blood would make it easier for us to get the Iron Throne but so far it has done us no good."

She looked down on him with her big eyes and he realized the anger in them slowly ebbed away, making way for compassion, which was even more maddening. He didn't deserve it. No!

He deserved the anger.

"I thought I could be a good adviser to you. But I'm nothing but a fool."

He believed in her with all his heart, but was he still worthy? Maybe she should appoint someone else. Someone who was not the brother of her biggest foe.

"You're not," she objected immediately, with soft-spoken words. "You're a fool but you're much more than just that."

In their usual way, they shared a look and both their lips curled up into a small smile.

"And you're my hand, no matter what."

"Even with a lying bitch of a sister and a brother who just now switched sides?"

"No matter what," she emphasized and her belief in him made his heart swell with pride. "But I don't trust your brother. I may allow him to stay and fight but I can't trust him."

Of course she couldn't. He had eyed the exchange in the Great Hall with interest. There had been moments when he had wished to interfere so badly, but after the disastrous advice he had given his queen about Cersei, he vowed to better keep his mouth shut. Especially _because_ he believed his brother. There had been something in Jamie's behavior, a brokenness. Like a soldier who realized the battle was lost and he needed to surrender in order to not get eaten up by the enemy. It was as if the Jamie he knew, who had fought for Cersei all his life, had ultimately realized that she was the enemy all along.

And the part of Tyrion who loved Jamie dearly wanted to welcome him with open arms inside their midst. The other part of Tyrion, however, who had to learn the hard way how the world worked, grasped that it would be wiser to remain cautious.

"You shouldn't," he agreed and pensively stared at the wall. "Let him prove himself under our watchful eyes."

It wasn't easy to love someone and not trust them. It was something that contradicted itself in its nature, but this time Tyrion needed to do it exactly this way. He intended to be the best adviser he could be for Daenerys, and he couldn't be that if he let himself get caught up by emotions. It was funny, how he needed to tell himself this after fearing Daenerys and Jon couldn't stay focused because of their love for each other. They all needed to hold their emotions into check, even though they were the epitome of human life. Wasn't that what they were fighting for in this Great War? To stay human? To be able to love, to be happy, even to hate?

Tyrion looked up to his queen and they both nodded in a silent understanding. What mattered was the war ahead, and they were willing to put a lot of things aside in order to win it. It was the price of freedom.

###

Outside the castle, it had become awfully quiet. Gone were all the men, horses, tents and warming bonfires. On the day of their departure, their traces had been visible everywhere around the large area, but it had been days since then and the winter saw to covering their tracks neatly. Almost as if they had disappeared without a trace. It had snowed for days and the chilly wind spread the white flakes everywhere, building banks of snow into the plain country like little mountains.

And in front of one, Drogon and Rhaegal waited patiently for her. As she stepped closer, Dany watched them fondly. It amazed her how well they adjusted to the North. Somehow she had always attributed them to warmth and fire, but it seemed that the cold and snow didn't contradict their fiery nature. Fire and Ice indeed seemed to complement each other well. She couldn't help but smirk at that thought, leaving images of Jon in her mind.

"What is it?" a voice beside her asked curiously. It belonged to Sansa, who had joined Dany on her walk.

"Just a thought." Dany dismissed the question. It was obvious that Sansa wasn't satisfied with the answer, but the Lady Stark knew better than to loiter on the subject.

They came to a halt in front of four large piles of weapons made of dragonglass, which were constantly filled up further by some young boys who hurried around like worker bees. Dany watched them with amusement as well as a little bit of relief that they were not in harm's way.

"We are almost ready to depart, your grace," Jorah informed her. He had waited for her alongside Tyrion right next to the piles.

"That's good to hear." Dany nodded in encouragement.

She looked around their accomplishments of the recent days. The piles of dragonglass shimmering dark and mesmerizing beneath the midday sun. The blacksmiths did an excellent job and hope started to spread inside her. With this, they really stood a chance.

"Gendry is almost finished too." This time it was Tyrion speaking. "He is -"

But he couldn't finish his sentence, due to Gendry's sudden arrival.

"I'm finished," he claimed proudly and a big smile crossed his face.

When she had first met the young man, he had outright stated to her that he was the bastard of Robert Baratheon. She had thought him rather foolish for blurting it out at first, but the feeling didn't last long, making way for respect. If there was one thing she cherished above all, it was honesty. Since then he had proven himself loyal to their cause. Without him, Jon and the others would have died beyond the wall. In addition, he was the leader of the blacksmiths, spurring them to do their best work. He was the one who, not shying away from her dragons, suggested something to make the battlefield a safer place for them.

"Would you like to see it, your grace?" he asked her, still smirking.

A few minutes later some men carried what looked like enormous shields through the nearest gate. Dany's pulse quickened at the marvelous sight.

"Dragon-armor." Gendry just said and let Dany inspect it quietly. He had forged two huge cuirasses out of strong steel with firm leather bands to attach them to her dragons. Carefully, she touched them, feeling the cold metal even through her gloves. Somehow, this sensation brought her back behind the wall; to the fateful moment when the Night King's spear hit Viserion right in the chest. At first, she hadn't believed what she saw. Her dragons were strong and unconquerable! It was not possible to bring them down with such ease. Then she had seen the blood spilling out of Viserion like red wine out of a knocked over cup, and she had known she would lose him. Her child.

"You really did it," she told Gendry breathlessly.

He had no idea how much this meant to her. How much the fear of losing another child haunted her. This would keep them safe, or at least as safe as they could be on a battlefield. She thanked him with a silent nod before he abruptly appeared a little nervous.

"I would like to ask something of you, your grace."

She eyed him with interest about his request. Interest and caution.

"Go ahead," she encouraged him, and she couldn't help sounding colder. What could it be that Gendry, the bastard blacksmith, wanted from her? When he had presented her the idea of Dragon armor, he had sounded keen and honest, but did he have ulterior motives all along?

"Take me with you to Long Lake," he spat out like a 12-year-old, and the tension that had taken hold of her vanished immediately.

"You would be safer here," she stated matter of factly, but she already saw the determination in his eyes. He longed to go.

"I know. But I don't want to be safe. Not when there is something on the battlefield I want to protect."

Although he had used the word _something_ , it was obvious to her that he meant _someone_. Dany suddenly understood all too well, why he was willing to head into battle. She herself couldn't stay safely here at Winterfell if Jon was risking his life elsewhere. His battles were her battles now.

"We'll depart in a few hours."

###

Dany watched the flames dancing in the fireplace, listening to the cracking of the burning wood and trying to enjoy these last minutes of silence. Where she was soon to be heading, silence was nowhere to be found. Instead, there would be the sounds of slaughter, of fear and of death, and what would be burned in the fires was flesh and bone and not wood. As much as she loved her dragons and the militant advantage they brought, what was left on the battlefield after she won was always something she disliked. The stench of burning bodies was hard to forget once you experienced it.

She tried to enjoy the calming sounds of her room, but she couldn't. Everything seemed to be too quiet since Jon and her men had left. No matter if it was a loud and heated discussion between soldiers or just the calm breathing of the man who slept beside her, she missed it all. They were affirmation that she wasn't alone anymore. That she had gathered whole armies to follow her as a queen and found a man who loved her as a woman. However hard her life had started out, she had grown into herself and became more than she had thought possible when she was a young girl. After all the years of searching, she finally found home again, and that was exactly the reason that urged her to fly to Long Lake as soon as possible. She now knew more than ever what she was fighting for.

A loud knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she permitted, and Missandei walked into her room. Since their arrival at Winterfell, Dany had been worried about her confidant. The usually collected Missandei had tensed up once they crossed the northern border. At first, Dany had attributed it to the upcoming war, but it was more than that. It was the chill of the North. Literally and figuratively. The North was ice cold, yes, but the Northerners had been unwelcoming to more than just Dany herself. It put a huge weight on her shoulders to see her friend like that.

"My queen," Missandei formally addressed her. "Everything is ready for your departure."

"Thank you," Dany replied with fondness in her voice. Missandei had stood by her side for so many years. Together, they had been through so much. She hoped one day in the not so distant future, she could make up for it.

"Is everything alright? You look worried." Of course, good-hearted Missandei spotted her pondering immediately.

"I'm worried about you. You don't seem yourself around here."

The truth caused Missandei to twitch uncomfortably. "I'm not," she admitted. "I don't like the North. And it seems to be mutual."

"You don't have to stay here forever," Dany explained. "When the wars are over, you and Grey Worm can go anywhere you choose. You're free, Missandei. Don't let the North tell you otherwise."

A small smile crept onto her friends face.

"And you're the queen."

There was no further explanation from Missandei, and it wasn't needed. Dany understood perfectly well what Missandei was trying to tell her.

 _You are the queen._

 _Don't let the North tell you otherwise._

"I know," she answered truthfully.

She was the queen, and as such would see to their survival. She had not forgotten this throughout all of the recent chaos.

"I should leave," she declared after a moment of silence. It was already late afternoon and she would fly enough hours in the dark already. Tyrion and Jorah had both advocated for her to fly the next morning, but she hadn't wanted to waste any more time. "It's time to finally join our men."

Dany's comment was meant to be light-hearted, but the moment the words escaped her lips, she realized it was the wrong thing to say. Where she was able to see Jon again and fight together with him, Missandei had already had to say goodbye to Grey Worm. She would stay at Winterfell, many miles away from the men she loved, who was fighting the Great War, whilst she was waiting and hoping for his safe return.

"He is a good fighter and you will see him again."

She didn't just say it to appease Missandei; Dany meant every word of it. Grey Worm was an excellent soldier, fueled by his love for the woman in front of her and the hope of returning to a life with her. Daney knew how strong this kind of love could make someone, having experienced it herself.

But Missandei didn't seem convinced.

"He didn't want to promise me," she explained.

The soldier in him didn't allow him to. Even without telling her, Dany knew that Missandei understood this, but she also knew why she had longed to hear those words.

"We both chose rather stubborn men, didn't we?" Dany said jokingly. She couldn't change the things Grey Worm had said or not. Before she left, though, she wanted to see a smile on her friend's face again. Even if it was just a tiny one, because deep down they all knew the dreadful truth: in a war against the Undead, promises couldn't be made.

"Stubborn but good men," Missandei agreed.

Both couldn't help but laugh.

###

They were all positioned outside, awaiting their queen. The ones who would stay. Tyrion, Varys, Sansa, and Bran, ready to say farewell. And the ones who would go with her. Jorah, Jamie, and Gendry, ready to mount Drogon and fly into battle.

"My queen," Tyrion stepped forward first. "May you stay safe." He tried to appear composed but couldn't hide the fear for his queen's life entirely. Not many weeks ago he would've given her a speech about not risking her life so freely, but they had all seen the danger that was looming upon them. They understood that there was no other way, and Dany was glad that he kept his mouth shut this one time.

She saw him in his eyes and lowered her head a little bit in silent understanding. They would do whatever they had to do to save the people.

"May you be well and victorious," Varys declared next with a soft bow.

"May you as well, Lord Varys," Dany echoed the sentiment.

Sansa was next in line. Like the proud Northern woman she was, Jon's sister stood there to wish her farewell. It was very like Jon and, at the same time, not at all. No matter if they shared the same father or not, they were siblings, this one was obvious to her. A family she wished to be part of, even though she still felt her walls come up every now and then around Jon's siblings. Her walls that had protected her well through all these years.

But maybe, it was time to let some of these walls down ...

Dany made the decision on the spot. Slowly, she leaned in to whisper something in Sansa's ear. "I was thinking about Jon. Earlier, when you asked me while I was smiling. I was thinking about him."

Dany didn't know if he had ever mentioned to Sansa that they had fallen in love with each other. With all the dealings of the last days before his departure, she doubted it. But with the last kiss they shared, something had changed. They both knew it without even sharing a word. They had chosen each other. _Definitely_. Which also meant that they would no longer keep it a secret.

"I figured," Sansa said with a smirk on her lips.

The last one in line was Bran. He looked up to Dany with such an intense stare that it brought a shiver down her spine. Dany had thought that she had gotten used to his odd demeanor, but in moments like this it was obvious that she didn't. A few seconds passed without him saying anything, and when it was on the verge of getting awkward, Dany was the one to break the silence.

"Farewell Lord Stark."

She meant it. He had proven himself to be very helpful in this war, and he was Jon's brother after all. Still, she didn't like his staring. She was already moving her foot, ready to end this series of goodbyes, when he moved his lips after all. What he said froze her where she stood.

"When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return and not before."

###

The air was poised with the smell of burning wood and yet he shivered from the cold. Jon was used to low temperatures, his time in the Night's Watch prepared him well, but the currently frigid temperatures weren't something one could adjust to. It was unusual, abnormal even. He turned around on his pallet and tried once more to fall asleep. He needed some rest before the battle, to gain strength and clear his head. It seemed an impossible task when the Great War was looming so near. With shaking hands, he held onto his thick fur-blanket and pulled it even higher to his chin in an attempt to get as much of his skin warm as he could. Somehow, the cabin on Dany's and his ship north came to his mind. How hot he had felt in the nights they had made love. He tried to hold onto those memories, to comfort him in this cold night. To keep him warm …

…

"My lord, my lord, wake up!" It was the voice of the boy again.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" He heard a different voice. Much older, lower. Then he noticed hands grabbing him firmly and pulling roughly at him. When he finally opened his eyes Tormund hovered directly over him.

"Time to fight little crow," was all he said before he handed him Longclaw, the blade having been positioned beside the bed. Jon was wide awake in an instant.

 _Time to fight._

He didn't need to ask what those words meant; he knew exactly what was happening. Dany wasn't here. The dragons weren't here. The additional weapons made of dragonglass weren't here. They weren't ready, yet the battle was about to begin all the same.

"Fill me in," he commanded the young boy whilst getting up and putting on his sword belt.

"The scouts, my lord. Only one returned. He saw the army. It's near and heading right at us."

He gave the boy and Tormund a bewildered look before heading outside.

Only one scout returned … The dying had already begun…

The camp was buzzing with agitated soldiers and Jon moved quickly through them towards his destination.

"How long?" he asked, forcing himself to focus. He felt his pulse vibrating up through his throat, lacing his words with nervousness.

"Not long. Not even an hour." The voice of the boy sounded thin. Good, Jon thought. At least that meant that he didn't underestimate the situation. Fear was a good motivation in a fight. It could make the difference between surviving and dying.

At the end of the camp, Davos and Arya were already waiting for him. "Everyone is getting into their position, my lord," Davos informed Jon.

Jon let his eyes wander over the area. Everyone seemed to be busy, but it looked more like chaos than a controlled positioning. One soldier tried to lock the latch of his coat, but his hands were shaking rapidly, another one tried to catch up to his unit but stumbled upon his own feet.

"Thank you, Davos, " he told him nonetheless and put a hand on Davos shoulders. He was a brave man who would've followed him anywhere, of that Jon was sure. However, he didn't belong on the battlefield. "Now go, take cover," Jon told him.

It wasn't a command. It wasn't even an exchange between Lord and adviser. It was just a plea from a friend, from someone who loved him. Jon figured that was the only true reason why Davos didn't object. Instead, he hugged him one last time.

"Don't do anything stupid," he joked lightly into Jon's ear, then he went to cover behind the front.

"I'm glad we got the Unsullied and the Dothraki," Arya spoke when Davos was gone. She had observed their surroundings and came to the same conclusion as him. They would not even have a chance if it were just the northern men, and he detected something else in her words. An approval for his choices. For the queen. For the woman he loved.

He felt his pulse slow down a bit. This was the end of the world, but at least he had a clean conscience. He did everything he could to warn them. To assemble a resistant army. All his efforts came down to this.

A few minutes later he took his position behind the third line of defense. Ahead of him, he could see rows and rows of soldiers and palisades.

What they had imagined on the small map in the morning, quickly had become real. It had lost all of its innocence. Nothing reminded him of a child's play anymore. The game was over; the Undead were here and brought the harsh reality of life and death with them.

* * *

 **Ugh ... mean cliffhanger ... I know. Sorry.**

 **Hope you stay tuned for the next chapter: Shit's about to go down!**

 **And huge thank you to my new beta reader DeadlyBacon50.**


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